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THE     MINOR      DRAMA 

No.  CXXXI. 


THE   CORSAIR: 


LITTLE  FAIRY  AT  THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE  SEA. 

^  ^efa  Christmas  ^urltstjac  antr  pantomime. 

Founded  upon  the  Ballet  of  "  Le  Corsaire." 


BY  WILLIAM  BROUGH,  ESQ., 

Jiuihor  of  Perdita,  or  th-e  Royal  Milkmaid,  Prince  Prettypet  and  the 

Butterfly,  Trying  It  On,  Phenomenon  in  a  Smock-frock 

A  Comical  Countess,  ^c,  ^'c. 


TO   WHICH   ARE    ADDED 

A  description  of  the   Costume — Cast  of  the  Characters — Entrances  and  Exits- 
Relative  Positions  of  the  Performers  on  the  Stage,  and  the  whole 
of  tke  Stage  Business. 


AS   PERFORMED    AT   THE 

PRINCIPAL   ENGLISH  AND   AMERICAN    THEATRES. 


N  E  W  -  Y  0  R  K : 
SAMUEL        FRENCH, 

122  Nassau  Street,  (Up  Stairs.) 


THE  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 


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THE    CORSAIR. 


I 


SCENE  I. — Marine  Aquarium,  or  Naiad's  Coralline  Temple — Wa- 
ter Spirits  discovered  sleeping  in  shells ;  Tritons  come  in  and 
arouse  them,  by  sounding  their  conches  ;  Spirits  rise  and  dance  ; 
a  coral  grotto  rises,  having  in  it  Submaeina,  Coralia,  Azurina, 
Tempestia,  <j-c. 

Sub.         Friends,  mermaids,  sprites  and  guardians  of  the  sea, 

Leave  off  j'our  dancing  and  attend  to  me ; 

This  is  a  public  meeting,  not  a  ball ; 

Here  come,  I'll  take  the  chair — now  silence,  all. 
All.  Hear !  hear ! 

Sub.  [c]  Do  let  me  speak,  I  say,  once  more — 

Friends,  sprites  and  guardians, 
Cor.  That  you  said  before. 

Sub.  Another  interruption  of  this  sort, 

And  I'll— 
Cor.  [r.  c]  Well,  well,  go  on — but  cut  it  short; 

Sub.         Friends,  sprites,  ct  cetera — AVe've  assembled  thus, 

The  state  of  our  dominions  to  discuss ; 

Each  day  we  read,  in  the  Subaqueous  Times, 

Of  murders,  robberies,  and  other  crimes. 

Daily  committed  with  impunity, 

In  open  daj' — upon  the  open  sea — 

Till  none  are  safe  who  roam  the  ocean  o'er. 
Cor.  They're  just  as  safe  as  if  they  stayed  on  shore  ; 

There,  too,  I'm  told,  you'll  find  on  the  increase — 

Burglaries — robberies — but  not  police. 
Sub.         Pray,  what's  the  shore  to  you — 

Cor.  I  but  to  tell  ye  meant. 

Sub.         Pooh  !  pooh  !  on  land  we're  quite  out  of  our  element ; 

What  we've  to  do,  is  to  find  out  some  plan 

To  rid  the  ocean  of  that  bad  young  man. 

Conrad  the  Corsair.— None  can  safety  gain 


4  THE    COESAin. 

Until,  like  gas,  he's  turned  off"  from  the  main; 
At  all  attempts  to  do  so,  he  has  laughed, 
While  his  great  cunning  saves  his  little  craft; 
All  commerce  doth  he  from  the  waters  sweep — 
Cleans  out  the  simple  ones  and  scours  the  deep ; 
None  cross  the  seas  thro'  fear  of  this  vile  rover — 
Their  spirits  fail,  ere  they  get  half  seas  over — 
In  short,  unless  mankind  from  him  we  save, 
There'll  soon  be  no  life  on  the  ocean  wave. 

Cor.         What  shall  we  do,  in  his  career  to  check  him — 

Azurina.  Hang  him ! 

Sub.  Can't  catch  him. 

Tempeslia.  Raise  a  storm  and  wreck  him. 

iSub.        A  good  idea,  most  reckless  of  all  men ; 

His  ship  destroyed,  he'll  not  be  wreckless  then. 
About  it  straight. 

Music. — Sekena  rises  through  trap,  l.  c. 

Serena.  One  moment  hear  me,  pray. 

Sub.         A  motion,  an  arrest  of  judgment,  eh ! 

Serena.    Not  only  that,  but  one  for  a  new  trial. 

Sub.         Nay — his  guilt's  plain. 

Serena.  Too  plain  for  my  denial. 

But  'stead  of  punishing,  could  we  reclaim  him — 
Sub.         Can  you  reclaim  a  tiger  1 
Serena.  You  can  tame  him  1 

Let  me  attempt  the  task. 
Cor.  Nay,  have  a  care, 

We  don't  want  Conrad  made  a  tame  affair. 
Sub.  Say  by  what  potent  magic  will  you  try  1 

Serena.    One  which  the  rudest  breast  can  purify — 

Lifting  the  soul  all  meaner  thoughts  above — 

The  magic  influence  of  woman's  love. 
Cor.         Ho !  ho  !  I  see — the  Corsair's  handsome  face 

And  figure,  eh  1 
Azurina.  A  most  decided  case. 

Cor.         Yon're  smitten,  miss. 
Serena.  I  scorn  the  imputation  ; 

I  am  a  fairy,  and  I  know  my  station  ! 
Stib.         No  quarreling — I  own  your  plan  seems  strange  ; 

Think  you  that  love  can  work  this  mighty  change  1 
Serena.    Madam,  I've  heard  of  fast  young  men  on  town. 

Desperate  dogs,  by  marriage  settled  down — 

Men,  who  for  years  would  not  go  home  till  morning, 

Found  the  domestic  tea-table  adorning ; 

Smokers,  Iv'e  heard,  have  put  their  pipes  out — nay 

I've  even  heard  of  latch-keys  thrown  away. 

Can  love  do  this,  and  yet  be  unavailing. 

To  cure  a  paltry  pirate's  little  failing  1 

Let  Conrad  only  get  a  loving  wife, 


THE    CORSAIR.  5 

And,  on  my  word,  he'll  lead  another  life. 
Sub.         Enough — we'll  try  your  plan. 
Serena.  I  ask  no  more, 

Than  leave  of  absence  for  a  month  on  shore — 

If,  ere  that  time  be  passed,  I  don't  succeed, 

Then  wreck  him,  or  whate'er  you  please — 
Sub.  Agreed ! 

[Music. — The  Spirits  form  a  group,  and  Serana  is  seen  darting  up 
towards  the  earth  as  the  scene  closes. 

SCENE  II. — Market  Place  in  Stamboul,  and  Oriental  Slave  Bazaar. 
Cheering  outside. — Enter  Corsairs,  l. 

1st  Cars.  Come  lads,  our  Captain's  given  us  a  holiday 

On  shore  to-day,  and  so  let's  have  a  jolly  day — 
AVe've  been  of  late  so  close  to  business  sticking. 
We  want  some  change. 

2d  Cars.  Let's  try  some  pocket-picking — 

1st  Cors.  You'd  find  small  change  in  that — 

2d  Cors.  Yes,  'twould  be  strange, 

In  people's  pockets  not  to  find  small  change. 

Sd  Cors.  But  see,  our  noble  Captain  comes  this  way — 

Isi  Cors.  Three  cheers  for  Conrad — Hip,  hip,  hip,  hurray! 

Enter  Conrad,  l. 

Conrad.  There,  that'll  do — Hip,  hip,  indeed — what  stuff — 

As  if  I'm  not  already  hipped  enough.  [Crosses  b. 

1st  Cors.  Cheer  up,  my  hearty — 

Conrad.  Man  !  I'm  not  your  hearty, 

And  to  cheer  up,  I'm  not  at  all  the  party. 

Is^  Cors.  Why  is  great  Conrad  ever  sadi 

Conrad.  Ah,  why "? 

Who  can  explain  this  secret  grief ;  not  I — 

That  secret  kept  so  dark,  none  e'er  saw  through  it — 

I  don't  believe  that  even  Byron  knew  it.  [Crosses,  L. 

Go,  go,  poor  giddy  things,  employ  your  leisure, 

In  seeking  what  the  thoughtless  world  calls  pleasure. 

1st  Cors.  Say,  is  there  aught  you'd  like,  that  we  can  bring, 
To  soothe  your  grief — 

Conrad,  [l.]  I  don't  like  anything  ; 

The  gloomy  spirit  in  this  aching  breast, 
Despises  most  things,  and  can't  bear  the  rest; 
Deems  happiness  an  empty  sound,  no  more; 
The  world  a  humbug — life  itself  a  bore — 
There's  nothing  in  it !     Leave  me.  [They  are  going. 

Tell  me,  though, 
Hast  seen  I5irbanto  our  lieutenant  1 

1st  Cors,  No.  [Exeunt,  B. 

Enter  Birbanto,  l. 


g  THE    CORSAIR. 

Birl.       Behold  liim,  lioio  !     What  would  j?reat  Conrad — Eh  1 

Anything  wanted  in  my  little  way  1     [Drawing  his  dagger. 

If  so,  just  give  your  orders  and  its  done — 

From  pitch  and  toss  to  manslaughier,  all's  one. 
Conrad.  Thou  art  the  best  o'  the  cut-throats — 
Birb.  I'm  no  bragger, 

But,  I  must  say,  I'm  not  bad  at  a  dagger, 

I've  one  to  serve  you  with  in  any  way, 

[Aside.]  And  serve  you  out  with,  too,  I  hope,  some  day. 
Conrad.  You're  very  kind. 
Birb.  But  pardon  the  suggestion — 

My  dagger's  point  was  not  the  point  in  question. 

You  asked  for  me — 
Conrad.  I  might  have  done.     Heigho  ! 

Birb.       Pooh  !  try  some  drink — you're  several  cups  too  low. 

Conrad.  Nay,  I  have  tried — I  drained  a  flask  this  minute 

Birb.       Well,  when  you'd  drained  it  1 

Conrad.  There  was  nothing  in  it. 

All  things  I've  tried,  but  they  bring  no  relief 

To  the  used-up,  bored,  blase  pirate  chief. 

Travel  I've  tried,  from  place  to  place  still  dodging, 

You'll  And  me  bored  where'er  you  find  me  lodging. 

The  stormy  waves  no  change  to  me  aflbrd, 

For  if  I'm  shipwrecked,  still  I'm  overboard ; 

I've  sought  excitement  ea'st,  west,  north,  and  south, 

In  battle-strife — e'en  at  the  cannon's  mouth, 

But  all  in  vain  :  amid  the  battle's  roar, 

I  found  the  cannon's  mouth  was  but  a  bore  ! 

Enough  of  this. 
Birb.  [Aside.]  Too  much  for  me  to  stand  ; 

A  pretty  fellow  to  command  our  band. 

Oh,  I  should  like  to 

[Raises  dagger;  Conrad  turns  round ;   Birbanto  bows 
after  the  approved  style  of  melodrama. 
Conrad.  Where's  my  galley  1 

Birb.  [Pointing  off  r.]  Sir, 

The  gahey's  there — that  buoy's  attached  to  her. 
Conrad.  Keep  her  in  readiness  to  sail  to-night, 

In  case  of  accidents.     D'ye  hear  1 

[Same  business  with  the  dagger. 
Birb.  [Bowing.]  All  right ! 

[Exit  Conrad,  r. 

It  shall  be  so.     We've  stood  him  long  enough — 

A  spoony,  pining,  sentimental  muft'; 

He's  not  at  all  my  notion  of  a  Corsair — 

I  like  black  worsted  curls  and  beard  of  horsehair  ; 

The  good  old  heavy  style  of  melodram, 

More  like  the  individual  I  am. 

Yet  the  band  love  him.     Well,  it  is  but  right 

To  own  he  is  the  very  deuce  to  fight, 


¥H£    COBSAIR.  7 

When  he  begins.     No  iii;itt:>r  !   we  shall  see 
Which  they  prefer  to  l-ead  them — him  or  me  ! 
To  sound  them  u;i  the  point,  at  once  I  go  forth. 

[ShaJiing  his  fist  towards  where  Conrad  has  gone  off. 
Tremble  !  Despair  !     Ha,  ha  !     llevenge !  and  so  forth  ! 

Song. — BiRBANTo. — Air,  "  Dusty  Boh' s  Hornpipe." 

Scruples,  lie  down — for  in  guilt  I'm  dyed  so  deep  already  ; 

Harder  'twould  be  to  go  back  than  to  proceed. 
After  the  scores  that  this  dagger's  sent  to  sleep  already 

Why  should  I  pause  at  one  other  little  deed  ] 
Tremble,  proud  Conrad — a  foe  you  don't  expect  in  me  ; 

Tremble — despair — as,  I  think,  I  said  before. 
You  once  removed — as  their  leader — they  electing  me — 

Crown  all  the  hopes  that  so  long  I've  pondered  o'er. 

Let  them  consent,  and  but  once  transfer  the  rule  to  me, 

I'd  show  them  how  they  their  work  should  go  about ; 
A  ticket-of-leave  man  himself  would  be  a  fool  to  me  ; 

Garotters  confess  that  I  beat  'em  out  and  out. 
Robbing,  attacking  all — plundering,  whacking  all — 

I  get  the  lion's  share,  of  course,  of  all  the  dibs  ; 
If  they'll  fall  in  with  it,  now  I'll  begin  with  it, 

Sticking  at  nothing  except  our  leader's  ribs.  [Exit  R. 

Enter  a  number  of  female  Slaves,  followed  hij  Yussuff,  l. 

Yussuff.  Now  then,  you  tarnal  critters,  look  alive. 
I  have  had  many  lots  of  slaves  to  drive, 
Of  all  sorts  and  complexions — black,  wliite,  and  red  ; 
You  whip  them  all — from  Uncle  Tom  to  Dred  ! 
Come,  look  alive,  I  tell  you.     Take  j'our  places, 
None  of  your  airs — but  plenty  of  your  graces. 
Be  careful  of  your  smiles,  and  mind  your  eyes  ; 
It's  market-day,  remember.     Come,  who  buys  1 

March. — Enter  Pasua,  Syxg  Smaul,  and  Guards,  r. 

Pasha.    Halt !  curs  ! 

Si/ng.  Halt,  curs — d'ye  hear  1 

Pasha.  Of  course  they  hear. 

Si/ng.  [l.]  Great  Pasha  ! 

Pasha  Slave,  who  bid  you  interfere  1 

Syng.       I'm  dumb. 

Yussuf.  [r.]  Great  Brother  of  the  Sun  and  Moon, 

How  do  you  find  yourself,  this  afternoon  7 
Pasha,  [c]  We  thank  thee,  dog,  we're  pretty  well. 
Syng,  Rejoice ! 

Let  all  the  earth  raise  high  its  joyful  voice; 

All  care  and  grief  from  every  heart  abolish, 

Our  mighty  Pasha,  feels  himself  tol-lol-ish. 

Shout  all  of  you.  [All  shout. 


8 


THE    COBSAtE. 


Fasha.  [Strikinr/  hioi.]  Be  quiet — 

Syn.  [Striking  another.]  Slaves,  be  dumb. 

How  dare  you  make  this  row — 

Pasha.  But  business — come — 

What  hast  thou  got  to  sell,  dog  1 

Yiissuf.  Sire,  I  deem 

These  here  Circassians,  the  Circassian  cream 
Of  excellence,  in  all  points — figures — faces — 
Trot  out,  you  critters,  come,  and  show  your  paces. 

Music. — The  Slaves  dance  out  one  by  one,  and  pass  before  the  Pasha. 

Pasha.  [Looking  at  them  one  by  one.]  Too  dark !   too  fair  !    too  red  ' 
too  short !    too  tall  1 

Too  lean  !    too  fat !   pooh  !  pooh  !   won't  do  at  all. 

Hast  thou  no  others,  pig  1 
Yussuf.  No,  sire ;  you  see 

3Iy  wholesale  merchant  disappointed  me  j 

I've  ordered  in  some  beauties. 
Pasha.  Reptile,  peace ! 

Who's  this  1 
Tussuf.  That,  sire  1    Medora,  my  young  niece. 

Enter  Medoka,  dancing,  l. 

There,  that'll  do — just  cut  these  capers — stop  ! 

Must  I  for  ever  catch  you  on  the  hop  ? 
Medora.  Nay,  be  not  angry,  uncle — 
Tussuf.  Then  stand  still  I 

Medora   With  pleasure,  if  it  pleases  j'ou,  I  will ; 

But  I'm  so  happy — feel  my  heart  so  light; 

The  air's  so  balmy,  and  the  sun  so  bright. 

The  gladness  that's  inspired  by  all  around, 

Finds  vent  in  jumps,  because  it  knows  no  bound. 
Pasha.     She'll  do  !     Come  hither,  dog,  a  word  with  you. 

[YusscTF  approaches,  they  whisper,  L.  C* 
Medora.  [Uneasy.]  What's  that  dark  stranger,  whispering  1 
Pasha.  Pooh  !  pooh  ! 

Yussuf.     But,  sire,  to  sell  one's  niece,  like  any  nigger ! 

'Possums  and  rattlesnakes  \     Say  what's  the  figure'? 
Pasha,  [l.  c]  Name  your  own  price. 

Yussuf.  [l.]  My  niece — so  good,  so  true- 

So  dear  to  me.     Well,  she'll  be  dear  to  you. 

What  say  you  to  one  thousand  chequeens  1 
Pasha.  Done. 

Yussuf  [Aside.]  I  wish  I'd  ask'd  him  five,  instead  of  one. 
Medora.  What  strange  presentiment  of  woe  comes  o'er  me 
Pasha.  Conduct  her  home. 

Syng.  Fair  slave,  just  march  before  mo ! 

Medora.  Slave !   knave  !  behave  !     I  am  no  slave — I'm  free  ! 

You  are  deceived ; 
Syng.  Nay,  you  are  sold — not  me; 


THE    CORSAIR.  9 

Medora.  I  sold  !     Who'd  dare  to  sell  me  1 

Syng.  Can't  you  guess — 

Medora.  Oh,  my  prophetic  soul !  my  uncle — 

Yussiif.  Yes ; 

I'm  very  sorry,  but — 
Medora.  You  sorry — stuff! 

Yiissuf.  I  guess  I  am.  [Aside.']  I  didn't  charge  enough. 
Medora.  [Tb  Pasha.]  I  am  no  slave,  good  sir,  I'm  free — then  please  ye, 

To  calm  my  fears,  and  make  me  free  and  easy. 
Yussuf.   There  !  don't  orationize  the  case  about. 
Medora.  If  you're  my  uncle,  you  will  let  me  spout. 
Pasha.     No  words — you  are  my  slave.  [Seizes  her. 

Medora.  Help  !  help ! 

Enter  Conrad,  r. 

Conrad.  How  now  "? 

Some  work  for  me  it  seems  ;  I  like  a  row.   [Draws  sword. 

Villains ! 
Pasha.  Holloa ! 

Med.ora.  Sir,  save  me  if  you  can — 

Conrad.  Yes,  I'll  see  fair ;  I'm  a  sea-faring  man  ; 

And  on  the  stage  no  sailor  can  do  less. 

Than  rescue  lovely  women  in  distress  : 

And  so  here  goes. 

[Throws  Syng  Smaul  across  to  R. — Tableau. 
Pasha.     Guards,  hew  him  limb  from  limb ! 
Medora.  No,  mercy !  take  my  life,  but  pardon  him. 
Conrad.  Pooh  !  pooh  !  fair  maid,  let  them  come  on — thej  dare  not  j 

Come — the  whole  lot  of  you  at  once — I  care  not. 

Song. — Conrad. — Air,  "  La  tremenda  ultrice  Spada." 

Ten  to  one,  now  come  on  to  the  attack,  sirs, 
Were  it  ten  times  ten  I'd  not  yield,  sirs. 
What's  the  odds,  I  myself  still  back,  sirs. 

Ten  to  one  on  the  favorite  'gainst  the  field. 
Ten  to  one — who  says  done  ? — still  no  takers, 
Ten  to  one — j'ou,  my  friends,  are  quakers. 
Ten  to  one — you'll  say  done  in  a  crack,  sirs. 

When  my  name  and  my  address  I  have  revealed. 

Yessuf.  [r.]  Go  at  him — all  at  once.  [Guards  rush  forward. 

Conrad.  Stay  !  by-the-bye, 

You'd  like  to  know,  p'rhaps,  who  I  am  1 
Paslui.  Not  I ! 

Conrad.  Well,  mind  you,  I  can  fight — I  give  you  warning. 
Medora.  Who  can  it  be,  these  fearful  odds  thus  scorning  1 
Pasha.    My  guards  are  ready. 

Medora.  Stay — your  name  avow  ! 

Conrad.  Conrad  the  Corsair !  [GvkRii&  shrink  away. 

Are  they  ready  now  ] 


10  THE    CORSAIR. 

Yussiif.  Jerusalem  !  Exit,  r.,  followed  by  the  Girls. 

Pasha.  TlieCcrsair!  murder!   lire! 

[Eii7is  out,  followed  by  Guards,  l. 
Conrad,  [l.]  Fair  maid,  j-ou're  safe — permit  mc  to  retire. 
iUedora.  [r.J  Nay,  fly  not  j'ct,  or  else  let  ine  fly-too, 

I'm  not  sale  here — they'll  soon  return. 
Conrad.  That's  true, 

And  doubtless,  tlious;h  the  case  I've  yet  to  learn, 

You'll  get  small  profit  by  their  quick  return ; 

But  still  to  come  with  me 

lledora.  Oh,  take  me  hence  ! 

I  will  not  put  you  to  the  least  expense  ; 

I'll  work  my  passage  out — wash,  cook,  bake,  brew  for  j'oa 

AVill  be  your  slave,  and  regularly  do  for  you. 
Conrad.  [Aside.  ]  I  fear  you  would,  if  long  at  you  I  looked, 

And  my  own  goose  be  the  first  thing  you  cooked. 

{Aloud  ]  But  think  upon  the  dangers  of  the  sea. 
3Iedora.  Those  dangers  have  no  terrors,  sir,  for  me. 
Conrad.  A  common  boast — the  would-be  j'achting  man, 

Who  talked  so  bravely  ere  the  trip  began, 

I  have  seen  rush,  at  the  first  lurch,  to  leeward, 

His  boasting  sunk  in  one  faint  cry  of  "  steward." 
Mednra.  Fear  not  my  courage  ;  take  me  with  you,  do. 
Conrad.  I've  half  a  mind. 
3Iedora.  I  should  be  safe  with  you ; 

But  if  left  here  alone,  tlien  should  I  be 

Alone  without  the  least  security. 
Co'irad.  Enougli !  it  shall  be  so — your  words  prevail. 

The  best  security  is  j^oiver  of  sail ; 

So,  to  set  sail  at  once  must  be  our  idan. 

The  crew  may  follow  the  best  way  they  can. 

Song. — Conrad. — Air,  "  3Iy  Skiff  is  by  the  Shore." 

My  skiff  is  on  the  siiore,  she  manned  must  be. 
By  one  little  boy,  yourself,  and  me  ; 
Can  I  call  it  manned,  though,  when  of  the  three, 
One  is  a  small  boy,  and  another  a  she. 

Fa,  la,  la,  &c. 
My  skiff  is  on  the  shore — then  come  with  me, 
Since  here  with  you  'twould  be  all  U  P. 

[Medora  dances  to  chorus — exeunt,  l. 

Serena  rises  from  trap,  k.  c. 

Serena.    So  far,  so  good  !  my  plans  are  working  nicely  ; 
That's  just  the  sort  of  girl  he  wants  precisely. 
]\Iodest,  sportive,  happy,  kind,  affectionate; 
With  heart  as  light  as  a  clieaji  grocer's  weight. 
He's  half  in  love  as  'tis — but  to  make  sure. 
All  sorts  of  dangers  they  shall  first  endure  ; 
For  true  love's  course,  in  palace,  cottage,  booth, 


THE    COESAIR.  11 

Like  omnibuses,  never  yet  ran  smooth  ; 

And  of  all  plans  to  win  a  man's  afi'ection, 

The  surest  is,  to  trust  him  for  protection. 

To  aid  my  plans,  first,  shipwrecked  he  shall  be  ; 

When  the  ship  sinks,  all  must  go  swimmingly — 

To  raise  the  wind,  at  once  the  seas  I'll  cross, 

And  set  the  waves  all  playing  futch  and  toss. 

Song. — Serena. — Air,  "  Over  the  Sea." 

Over  the  sea  ! — now  will  I  flee — 
Mind,  it's  a  secret  between  you  and  me  ; 
Soon  you  will  see — don't  say  'twas  me — 
Somebody  coming  it  strong  ! 

Even  March  !  March  !  March  ! 

With  his  winds  and  rough  weather, 

Such  storm  ne'er  could  gather  : 
Old  March  !  March  !  March  ! 

Shall  confess  himself  beaten  ere  long. 

It's  over  the  sea  !     Over  the  sea ! 

Like  Mother  Carey's  bird  now  will  I  flee — 

Over  the  sea  !     Over  the  sea  ! 

Raising  the  wind  pretty  strong.  [Exit  R. 

SCENE  III. — A  Storm  at  Sea,  with  the  wreck  of  the  Golden  Mary. 

Conrad's  vessel  discovered,  surrounded  by  the  raging  waters.     Con- 
rad, Medora  and  Sailor,  discovered  on  the  deck. 

Conrad.  Courage,  Medora,  all  Mill  yet  be  well;  . 

I  s'pose  you  ne'er  saw  such  a  heavy  swell  1 

Cheer  up  !  you're  pale — you  must  be  ill,  I'm  thinking  1 
Medora.  No,  no !  I  only  feel  a  little  sinking. 

[Noise  of  ship  striking. 

Hark  !  the  ship's  striking — we  are  lost ! 
Conrad.  Pooh  !  pooh  ! 

AVho  cares,  if  the  eftect  is  striking  too, 

If  with  the  public  we  go  down  to-night ! 
Medora.  She  sinks  !  we're  going  down  ! 
Conrad.  We  are  1     All  right ! 

[Sliip  sinks.    Scene  closes. 

SCENE  IV. — The  Pirate's  ITome. — A  large  arch  in  c,  with  curtains 

closed.     Music. 

Eater  Birbanto  and  Yussuf,  stealthily,  l. 

Yussuf.  [l.]  Say,  stranger. 

Birh.  [r.]  Hush  !  don't  speak, — don't  breathe — don't  wink  ! 

Yussuf.   AH  slick,  old  coon,  we  see'd  the  critter  sink 

In  last  night's  storm. 
Birb.  He's  saved  tho',  I'll  be  bound  ; 

Men  born  for  his  fate,  never  can  be  drowned. 


12  TUE    COHSAIR. 

Yussuf.  How  was  it  wc  escaped  1 

Biri.  Because,  you  see, 

We  were  not  born  for  drowning  more  than  he. 

But  come,  to  business  !  Where's  the  cash  1  fork  out ! 
Yiissvf.   I'd  rather  liave  the  gal  back,  first. 
Birb.  No  doubt 

Yussuf.   I'll  liquidate,  safe  as  the  bank. 
Birb.  Just  so ; 

But  then  banks  are  not  always  safe,  you  know. 

No  trust. 
Yussuf.  [  Gives  money.]  Well,  there.    Now,  how  d'ye  mean  to  fix  him  1 
Birb.       A  sleeping  draught  I'll  go  at  once  and  mix  him. 

So  strong,  that  if  his  food  in  it  you  steep, 

You'd  even  catch  a  weasel  fast  asleep. 
Yussuf.  I  see.     So  then,  when  he  this  potion  drinking, 

Goes  off  like  nodding,  we  go  off  like  winking, 

And  take  the  gal. 
Birb.  [Aside.]  A  rash  step,  p'raps,  I've  taken  ; 

I'd  take  a  rasher,  could  I  save  my  bacon, 

And  settle  him  at  once,  clean  out  of  hand. 

But  that  I  fear  the  vengeance  of  the  band. 

No  matter,  time  will  come.     Hah  !  hah  ! 
Yussuf.  I  say. 

Birb.       I  beg  your  pardon.     Come — away  !  away  ! 

[Exit  melo-dramaiically,  followed  by  YpssuF,  R. 

Music. — The  curtains  in  the  arch,  c,  are  raised,  and  discover  Con- 
rad reclining  on  a  couch  of  tiger  skins,  smoking  a  chibouque, 
Medoka  seated  at  his  feet. 

Conrad.  And  so  your  uncle  sold  you  into  slavery  1 

The  monster ! 

Medora.  Had  it  not  been  for  your  bravery 

Conrad.  There,  that's  enough  ;  tliese  fervent  thanks  withhold. 
Medora.  Say,  are  you  sure  you  haven't  caught  a  cold, 

Last  night  when  struggling  with  the  waves  so  cruel  ? 

Do  let  me  make  you  just  one  drop  of  gruel.  [Rises. 

Conrad.  A  pirate  taking  gruel !  doubtless  j'ou 

Would  like  my  feet  put  in  hot  water,  too  1 
Medora.  I  should,  'twould  do  j'ou  good. 
Conrad.  And  I  suppose 

You'd  further  counsel  tallowing  my  nose  1 
Medora.  'Tvvould  be  as  well.     Nay,  come,  from  laughing  cease  ; 

Were  you  a  patriot,  you'd  stick  up  for  grease. 
Conrad.   Her  care  for  me  is  really  charming  !     Come, 

Sit  down,  Medora — make  yourself  at  home. 
Medora.  Nay,  I'm  yonr  slave. 

Conrad.  [Aside.]  My  love  for  her  gets  stronger. 

Medora.  Your  waiting  maid. 
Conrad.  Nay,  you  shall  wait  no  longer. 

[He  rises  ;   she  dances  aivay  coquettishly ,  he  followinq — ■ 
CoxRAD  sings  to  music  of  dance. 


THE    CORSAIR. 


u 


Air. — "  The  Fan  Dance."     {SjMyiish.) 

Sweetest,  your  charms  have  restored  me, 
All  once  bored  me — ennui  floored  rae. 
Uh,  my  heart  now  you've  fiU'd  with  gladness, 
Away  have  you  chased  its  sadness  ! 
Medora,  oh  !  don't  say  me  no. 

Say  you'll  be  mine — then  pray  do,  love  ! 
For  'tis  you,  love,  are  my  true  love  ; 
Oh  !  don't  turn  away  your  face,  dear, 
But  do  grant  me  one  embrace,  dear, 
You  will  not  refuse  me,  I  know. 

Come,  sweet  Medora — say  that  you'll  be  mine  ! 

BiRBANTO  crawls  on  from  k. 

£irb.       Now,  how  to  do  it — hah,  the  wine!  the  wine  ! 

[Pours  liquid  from  vial  into  Conrad's  glass,  and  exit  at  hack. 
Medora  sinks  into  Coxrad's  arms ;  he  kisses  her. 
Conrad.  No  more  a  slave — this  liberty  affords  you ; 

Your  lover,  not  your  master,  looks  towards  you. 

[Drinks — chord. 

How's  this  1  a  sudden  drowsiness,  methinks  ; 

AVould  you  excuse  me  just  for  forty  winks "?  [Sleeps. 

Medora.  Sleep — I'll  hold  watch,  so  shall  no  harm  befall  him. 

Holding  the  watch,  I  shall  know  when  to  call  him. 

Soft  music. — Enter  Yussuf  and  Birbanto,  stealthily,  r. 

Birh.       There  lies  the  man  of  mystery,  dark  and  deep, 
So  slow  when  waking — yet  how  fast  asleep ! 
Now  is  your  time — quick  to  your  task  allotted. 

[  Gives  him  scarf. 

Yussuf.  Slick  as  greased  light'ning. 

[Throws  scarf  over  Medora' s  head. 

Birh.  Cleverly  garrotted. 

Medora.  [Struggling:]  Help  !     Murder  ! 

Birh.  Silence  her — choke — muzzle — gag  her. 

Or,  stay — let  me  assist  you  with  a  dagger. 

Yussuf.  No.     No. 

Medora.  Help !     Conrad  ! 

Yussuf.  Silence — come  along  !  [Drags  her  out,  r. 

Medora.  Help ! 

Birh.  [Calling  after  him.]  Get  a  pitch-plaster  and  pitch  it  strong. 

Enter  Corsairs,  l. 

\st  Cars.  What  noise  was  that?     A  cry  for  help  we  heard — 

Birh.  [Aside.]  So  just  in  time — [aloud] — aery — pooh!  pooh!  absurd! 

2d  Cors.  I'm  sure  I  heard  a  voice  for  aid  imploring — 

Birh.       Pshaw  !  you're  mistaken — 'twas  our  captain  snoring. 

Ist  Cors.  [Seeing  Qo^Rkx^.]  Conrad  asleep ! 


14  '^UK   COBSAIB. 

Birh.  Yes,  that's  a  pretty  way 

For  a  great  pirate  chief  to  pass  tlie  day  ! 

Hear  me,  my  friends — our  captain  is  a  do. 
Is;;  Cors.  How  1 

Birh.  Not  the  leader  for  brave  men  like  you. 

\st  Cors.  Nay,  have  a  care  how  Conra-d  you  abuse — 
Birh.        A  spooney  humbug — always  in  the  blues — 

Pining  and  sighing — 
2d  Cors.  Well,  that's  true  enough — 

He  is  too  sentimental. 
Birh.  He's  a  muff! 

Not  fit  to  be  our  leader. 
\st  Cors.  P'raps  you're  right. 

Birh.       Didn't  he  leave  us  all  on  shore,  last  night, 

To  get  home  as  we  could  1 
2d  Cors.  That  was  a  fault. 

Birh.       Let's  give  him  pepper — -^le's  not  worth  his  salt. 
Corsairs.y^e  will — we  will. 
Birh.  Said  like  brave  men  and  true  ! 

You  mean,  though,  what  you  say  1 
Corsairs.  We  do — we  do. 

Birh.        One  blow  and  we  are  free — we  then  can  take 

Another  leader — come — 

[ilusic. — They  approach   Conrad,  with  daggers  raised. 
The  Scene  opens  and  Serena  appears  hehind. 

Serena.  AVake,  Conrad,  wake. 

Conrad.  [Stai-ts  iip.\  Methought  I  heard  a  voice  cry,  sleep  no  more— 

[Sees  Corsairs. 
Halloa!    [Tlicij  slink  away.]    Here,  stop!    don't  go.     Ho! 

guard  the  door. 
This  looks  like  a  rebellion,  eh,  my  men  1       [Corsairs  kneel. 
1st  Cors.  [l.]  Pardon  us,  mighty  Conrad. 
Birh.  [Aside,  r.]  Sold  again  ! 

2d  Cors.  It  was  Birbanto,  here,  that  drove  us  to  it. 
Bi7-b.       Pardon,  great  chief,  I  didn't  go  to  do  it. 
Conrad.   Kneel,  traitor ! 
Birh.  [Kneeling.]  Can  you,  then,  forgive  1 

[Throws  money  amongst  them. 
Conrad.  Ne'er  doubt  it. 

Go  drink  my  health,  and  say  no  more  about  it. 
All.  Long  live  great  Conrad.     Hip  !  hip  !  hip  !  hurrah  ! 

[Exeunt  Corsairs,  l. 
Birh.  [Aside.]  Defeated,  foiled — no  matter — hah  I  hah  !  hah  ! 

[Exit  Birbanto,  l. 
Serena.  [Advances  r.]  Bravelj'  done,  Conrad,  this  great  generosity. 
Conrad.  Beg  pardon  !  you'll  excuse  my  curiosity — 

But  whom  have  I  the  honor  to  address  1 
Serena,  [r.]  I  am  a  fairy. 
Conrad.  You  then  saved  me  1 


THE    COESAIK.  15 

Serena,  [c]  Yes. 

Conrad.  Speak  !  wliere's  my  love — my  Venus — ray  Medora  1 
Serena.    Your  A'onus  !  uay,  prepare  to  meet  a  floorer  ! 

She's  gone  ! 
Conrad.  Gone! 

Serena.  Nay,  dor't  start ;  yet  p'raps  you'd  better, 

And  start  at  once,  if  back  you  hope  to  get  her. 
Conrad.  Tell  me,  where  shall  I  seek  my  priceless  treasure  1 
Serena.    Promise  me  one  thing  first. 
Conrad.  I  do  with  pleasure. 

What  is  it  1 
Serena.  That  when  you've  regained  this  maid, 

You  M'ill  retire  from  the  Corsair  trade  ; 

Marry,  and  live  respectably. 
Conrad.  Agreed ! 

I've  long  been  weary  of  the  life  I  lead — 

So  I'll  reform. 
Serena.  This  is  indeed  felicity  ! 

Conrad.  Turn  steady,  and  go  in  for  domesticity  : 

Stand  for  churchwarden,  and  the  vestry  sit  on  ; 

Aye,  and  pay  rates  and  taxes  like  a  Briton, 

Duet. — Air,  " Ilome,  sweet  Home.'''' 
Serena.   All  pleasures  are  fallacies  for  those  who  roam  ; 

Howe'er  folks  may  grumble,  there's  no  place  like  home. 
Conrad.  Tho'  duns  maj"^  come  daily — tho'  poor's  rates  maj'  call — • 

Give  me  them  and  the  butcher's  bill  dearer  than  all, 
Serena.  Home,  home,  sweet  home. 

There's  no  place  like  home  ;  ►^ 

Whoever  deny  it,  there's  no  place  like  home.  Si 

Conrad.  Home,  home,  sweet  home, 

A  slow  place  is  home ; 
However,  I'll  try  it,  and  go  in  for  home. 
Both,  Farewell !     Farewell !  Serena  sinks,  r.  c. 

Song. — Conrad. — Air,  "My  Mary  Ann." 
Fare  you  well,  my  own  Mary  Ann, 
Or  whatever  your  name  may  be  ; 
These  fairies  seldom  give  their  names, 
And  so  I  christen  she,  "  Mary  Ann." 
Let  me  once  more  see  my  own  turtle-dove, 
I'll  keep  my  word  with  you  ; 
Excuse  me  if  I've  named  you  wrong, 
And  still  assist  me,  do,  Mary  Ann. 

Fare  you  well,  my  own  Mary  Ann,  &c. 
[Exit,  R. 

SCENE  Y.—  The  Uarem,  wUh  the  Gardens  of  the  Pasha's  Palace. 

Odalisqdes  dancing.     Enter  Gulnare,  l.,  and  Zuhema,  r.  ;    the 
Odat.isques  dance  round  Gulnare. 


16  TUE    CORSAIR. 

Zuli.        How's  this  *?    Am  I  no  longer  mistress  here  1 
Gu.1.         Well,  don't  be  angry  with  them,  there's  a  dear ; 

You  can't  put  old  heads  on  young  shoulders. 
Zuli.  No. 

But  you  can  take  the  young  heads  off  them,  though. 

They'd  best  not  slight  me  ! 
Gid.  Madam,  pray  control 

Your  passion  ;  do  now,  there's  a  good  old  soul. 
Zuli.        Old  soul !     No  matter — we  shall  see. 
Gul.  No  doubt' 

With  .spectales  you  might — you  won't  without ! 
Zuli,        Proud  beauty;  though  your  eye  now  brightly  twinkles—^ 
Gul.         There — there  ;  don't  frown,  it  only  shows  the  wrinkles. 
Zuli.        Dare  you  thus  openly,  then,  to  deride 

One  whom  the  Pasha's  chosen  for  his  bride  1 
Gul.         Nay,  I've  no  wish  a  quarrel  to  be  picking  ; 

But  you  must  own,  my  friend,  you're  not  a  chicken. 
Zuli.       I  blush  for  you. 

Gul.  You  can't — your  paint  beneath 

Zuli.        'Tis  false ! 

Gul.  Just  so. 

Zuli.  You  say  this  to  my  teeth  1 

Gul.         To  teeth — to  hair — to  all  the  charge  extending ; 

That  wig — the  head  and  front  of  your  offending. 
Zuli.        I'll  have  you  bow-stringed  ! 
Gul.  Yes,  a  likely  thing. 

First  catch  your  heau  before  you  talk  of  string. 

D'ye  think  the  Pasha  cares  for  you  1     Not  he, 
Zuli.       Indeed !     But  here  he  comes — now  we  shall  see. 

Enter  Pasha,  l.  v.  e. — Zuliema  runs  to  him  and  seizes  him  hy  the  arm. 

Trio. — Irish  Air. 

Zuli.  Mighty  Pasha,  grant  your  slave 

Vengeance  on  this  beauty  bold. 
Gul.  Mighty  Pasha,  I  would  crave 

Safety  from  this  vixen  old. 
Pasha.  Will  you  hold  this  dreadful  row,  now  1 

Zuli.  Will  you  put  this  upstart  down,  now  1 

Gul.  Her  conceit  has  grown  so  big,  sir — 

Zuli.  She  declares  I  wear  a  wig,  sir — 

Pasha.  How,  now,  now — will  you  hold  your  row  1 

I'm  by  no  means  in  good  humor — not  just  now. 

Pasha.    Leave  me. 

Zuli.  Alas  !  your  love  for  me,  then,  cools. 

[Embracing  him. 
Pasha.    Oh,  be  off — old  fools  are  the  worst  of  fools  ! 

Come  here,  Gulnare — the  cause  of  this  explain  : 
Zuli.  [r.,  Mincingly.]  It  was  my  face. 
Gul.  [li.]  You  sec  the  cause  is  plain — 


THE    CORSAIR. 


17 


She  boasted  that  she  was  your  wife  to  he, 
When  you  remember,  sire,  you  promised  me. 

Pasha    [Aside.]  I  know,  to  both  of  tliem  I've  pledged  ray  word — 
It's  very  awkward,  for  I  love  a  third. 

Zuli.        Great  Pasha,  say,  shall  I  not  be  your  bride  1 

Gul.        I'll  leave  it  to  your  taste,  sire,  to  decide. 

Song. — Pasha. — "  Beggar's  Opera." 

How  happy  could  I  be  with  neither ; 

Now  t'other  dear  charmer's  away, 
I  don't  care  a  button  for  either ; 

And  so  what  the  deuce  can  I  say, 
Except  tol  de  rol,  oh,  ray  Medora — 

Tol  de  rol,  rol  de  rol  lay — 
You've  deserted  your  ardent  adorer, 

And  left  hira  to  raisery  a  prey. 

[A  loud  single  knock. 

Enter  Syng  Sjiaul,  l.  1  e. 

Pasha.    IIow  now,  slave  1 

Syng.  Sire,  a  raan  is  at  the  door, 

He's  got  a  slave  to  sell. 
Pasha.  I'll  buy  no  more. 

[Exit  Syng  Smaul. 

I'm  plagued  to  death  as  'tis,  with  those  I've  got. 

Re-enter  Syng  Smaul,  l.  1  e. 

What  now  1 
Syng.  lie  savs  you  have  bought  this  one. 

Pasha.  '  '  Whatl 

Syng.       And  though  to  you  such  message  maj-  sound  funny  ; 

lie  said  he  would'nt  leave  without  the  nionej'. 
Pasha.    Insolent  caitiff'!  show  him  in — and  stay — 

Request  our  headsman,  too,  to  step  this  way. 

[Exit  Syng  Smaul. 
Gul.  [Aside.]  Who  is  this  madman,  rushing  on  to  slaughter  ^ 

Enter  Yussuf  with  Medora,  veiled,  l.  1  e. 

Yiissuf.  How  are  you,  Pasha  1     Here's  the  gal ;  I  caught  her. 
Pasha.    What  girl,  dog  1 
Yiissuf.  [Raising  her  veil.]  See  ! 
Pasha.  Medora ! 

Medora.  Sire,  have  pity  ! 

Zuli.  [Looking  at  Mv.noB.x.]  Yoirag,  but  uncultivated  ! 
Gul.  [Looking  nt  Medora. J  Plump,  but  pretty  ! 

Mt  iora.  Save  me,  sir,  from  this  man  1 

Pasha.  Nay,  sweet — you  see 

Medora.  You  won't  1     Enough!     Thus,  then,  ray.self  I  free. 

[Bi-au's  dagger ;  is  about  to  stab  herself. 


18 


THE    CORSAIE. 


Yussuf.  Hold  on,  until  I'm  paid — at  least.     IIo  !  seize  her. 
Medora.  Villain,  for  you,  then.  [Runs  at  him  with  dagger. 

Yussuf.  Back  her  !  stop  her  !  ease  her ! 

Runs  out,  L. 
Pasha.     Halloa  !     It  seems  your  dagger  you  are  quick  at ! 
Medora.  Yes,  for  great  wrongs  I  never  trifles  stick  at. 
Pasha.     But  he's  your  uncle. 
Medora.  [l.J  Kindred's  no  protection. 

1  raised  this  knife  to  cut  my  own  connexion. 
Pasha.    Nay,  sweet  Medora.  [Kneels. 

Zuli.  Sir,  what  are  you  at  ''■ 

Kneeling  before  a  little  minx  like  that. 
Pasha.     Silence ! 

Gul.  To  me  can  you  forget  your  vow  1 

Pasha.    Somebody  stop  these  women's  tongues. 

Enter  Stng  Smaul,  l. 

How  now  1 
Syng.       A  wandering  dervise,  by  fatigue  oppressed, 

Begs  you'll  allow  him  to  come  in  and  rest. 
Pasha.    Admit  him. 

Syng  Sjiaul  goes  off,  and  returns  tvith  Conkad,  l.,  disguised  as  a 
dervise ;  he  bows  to  Pasha. 

Sir,  come  in,  your  boon  we  gi-ant. 

An  Attendant  brings  wine. 

Drink,  sir  ;  this  maid  will  dance  meanwhile. 
Medora.  I  shan't. 

Pasha.    No  sulks,  young  woman  ;  we've  an  ugly  knack 

Of  giving  ladies  who  rebel — the  sack. 
Syng.      Into  the  river,  tied  in  bags,  they're  shied. 
Medora.  Tied  in  a  bag  1     I  care  not  what  betide. 
Conrad.  [Aside  to  her.]  Fear  naught. 
Medora.  That  voice ! 

Conrad.  Take  heed — don't  shout  like  that  out. 

Medora.  [Aside.\  Talking  of  bags,  I'd  nearly  let  the  cat  out. 
Pasha.     Once  for  all — will  you  dance  at  my  command'? 
Conrad.  Stay,  you've  no  music  ;  let  me  call  my  band. 

[Bloivs  horn.]  ]\Iy  followers,  ho  ! 
Pasha.  AVhat  mean  these  rude  alarms  1 

3Ledora.  The  trumpet  calls,  and  thus  we  fly  to  arms.    [They  embrace. 
Pasha.    Tear  them  asunder  ! 

[Music. — Syng  Smaul  seizes  Medora — struggle,  in  which 
Conead's  cloak  falls  off. 

Ho  !  the  Corsair !  murder ! 

[Ladies  scream — all  rush  off,  carrying  Medoka,  strug- 
gling, R, 


TUE    CORSAIR.  19 

Conrad.  [Blows  horn.]  My  followers,  bo  ! 

Eater  Birbbanto,  l. 

Birh.  They'll  follow  you  no  furder ! 

Conrad.  You  have  not  dared  to  tamper  with  them,  slave  1 

Birh.       Well,  if  ycu  ask  the  qustion  then — I  have. 

Cotirad.  Traitor!  [Draws  swm'd. 

Birh.  I  scorn  your  threats  and  you  alike  ! 

Conrad.  This  to  decide  between  us  then. 

Birh.        [With  the  approved  Victoria  pronunciation.]  Ster-ike  ! 

[Music. — They  strike  attitudes  for  a  hroad-sword  com- 
bat— Cox  RAD  stops  suddenly. 
Conrad.  [Looking  at  his  sword,  alight  elegant  one.]  Stop!  for  stage 
combats  this  is  not  the  thing, 

Just  wait  while  I  exchange  it  at  the  wing. 

[Goes  to  u'ing,  b.,  and  returns  with  the  oHhodox  hasket 
hilt. 

Now  then  to  meet  your  fate  so  well  deserved. 

Come  on  1 
Birh.  Ster-ike,  as  I  before  observed. 

[Desperate  single  combat — Birbanto  gets  the  worst  of  it. 

Help!  help! 
Conrad.  Take  that — in  vain  for  help  you  call. 

Bi7-b.        [Falls.]  That  cut  was  the  unkindest  cut  of  all. 
Conrad.  Die,  villian  !  [Guards  rush  in  and  surround  him. 

Birh.  Saved ! 

Syng.  Ho!  guards,  to  pieces  tear  him. 

Conrad.  I'm  dished — I  ask  no  quarter. 
Medora.  [Runs  in  r.,  and  kneels.]  Spare  him — spare  him. 
Tableau — scene  closes. 

SCENE  VI. — A  Corridor. — Practicable  door,  r.,  a  barred  window,  l. 

Enter  Syxg  Siiadl,  leading  in  Medora,  l. 
Syng.       Fair  maid,  you'll  be  a  prisoner  here  confined. 

Till  in  this  matter  you've  made  uj)  your  mind. 

If  you  consent  to  be  the  Pasha's  wife, 

Conrad  the  Corsair  saves  his  forfeit  life — 

If  not,  the  hangman  treats  him  to  a  drop! 
Aledora.  Marry  the  Pasha,  never. 
Syng.       [Going.]  Good. 

Medora.  Yet  stop — 

Where  is  the  prisoner  1 
Syng.       [Pointing  to  door,  r.J  la  yon  cell. 
Sledora.  So  near  me. 

He  shall  decide  for  me  !     Ho,  Conrad,  hear  me ! 
Syng.      He  can't.     'Tis  vain,  so  you  may  save  your  trouble  ! 

Your  voice  is  treble,  but  the  doors  are  double. 

I'll  leave  you  to  reflect.  [Exit,  l. 


20  THE    CORSAIR. 

Medora.  Which  can  I  choose — 

The  matrimonial,  or  the  hangmau's  noose  1 
The  Pasha's  wife — oh,  no;  yet,  if  I  falter, 
'Tis  I  that  lead  my  Conrad  to  the  halter. 
A  footstep  !  who  conies  here  1 

Enter  Gulnare,  r. 

Gid.  Hush  !  not  a  word ! 

The  Pasha's  proposition  I  have  heard. 
Medora.  And  you  advise  me  to  refuse  it  flat  '\ 
Qui.        No,  to  accept  it. 

Medm-a.  What !  wed  a  thing  like  that  ] 

Gul.        It  is  a  match  most  women's  hopes  would  lean  to. 
3Iedora.  Indeed!  then  marry  him  yourself ! 
Gul.  I  mean  to. 

Medora.  Explain  ! 

Gul.  Nay,  Conrad  too,  must  present  be. 

3Iedora.  Alas  !  they've  locked  him  in,  and  ta'eu  the  key. 
Gul.        But  I've  a  duplicate !  [Shmvs  key. 

See,  this  will  pick  it.     [Goes  to  door. 
Medora.  A  duplicate  !  that  is,  indeed,  the  ticket. 

[Gulnare  opens  door,  r.  2  e.,  Conrad  comes  out,  ironed. 
Conrad.  We  meet  again,  my  joy  who  now  can  tell  1 
3Iedora.  [Looking  in.]  What  a  vile  dungeon  ! 
Conrad.  'Tis  an  awful  cell. 

Thus  ironed  too !  these  heavy  fetters  dangling. 
3Iedora.  That  loved  form  ironed  !     Well,  it's  saved  from  mangling. 
Conrad.  Sweet,  'twas  your  love  that  saved  me — nothing  but  it. 

Their  swords  were  at  my  throat — you  bid  them  cut  it, 
Gul.         But  come,  time  flies — 
Conrad.  Hah  !  true,  a  just  remark. 

Explain,  too  long  they've  kept  me  in  the  dark. 

[Points  to  Sill. 
Gul.         Kept  in  the  dark — come,  there  you're  wrong,  methinks. 

Surely  you'd  light — those  chains  have  lots  of  links. 
Medora.  Conrad,  the  Pasha  offers  you  your  freedom. 
Conrad.  Hah  !  on  what  terms  1 
Gul.  In  her  confusion  read  'era. 

Her  hand. 
Conrad.  And  she  consents  1  oh,  no. 
Medora.  I  don't 

I'd  see  him  further  first,  and  then  I  won't. 
Conrad.  Brave  girl,  'twould  be,  were  I  of  you  bereft, 

A  still  more  awful  sell  than  that  I've  left. 
Gul.         But  I've  a  plan. 

Conrad.  Out  with  it.  ^ 

Gul.  'Tis  that  she 

Pretend  submission  until  you  are  free. 
Conrad.  Good ! 
Medora.  But  suppose  he  makes  me  sticks  to  it  1 

And  marrv  him. 


THE    CORSAIR.  21 

Oul.  Nay,  trust  to  woman's  wit, 

I  meim  to  many  him  myself — I  told  you  ; 

As  the  sole  obstacle,  I  now  behold  you. 

You  gone,  of  all  my  hopes  comes  the  revival. 

With  your  depaHitre,  I've  no  more  a  rival 

But  some  one  comes ;  they  must  not  here  perceive  me. 

Get  in.  [Pushing  Conrad  in. 

Conrad.  [Struggling.]  Get  out. 

Gul.  Go,  go.  [Locks  door. 

Medora.  You  won't  deceive  me  1 

Gul.        Trust  me.  [Exit,  r. 

Medora.  I  will. 

March. — Enter  Pasha,  Synq  Smaul,  Guards,  Sfc,  l. 

3Iedoi'a.  [Aside.]  And  now  consent  to  sham  ! 

Pasha.    Well  madam,  are  you  quite  resolved  1 

Medora.  I  am. 

Pasha.    Pause  ere  you  speak — mind,  your  refusal  crushes 
The  Corsair's  chance.     Your  answer  ! 

Medora.  [3Iodesthj.]  Spare  my  blushes. 

Pasha.     What,  you  consent  1 

Medora.  Oh,  sir ! 

Pasha.  You  do  !  you  love  me  1 

Medora.  Can  I  believe  that  one  so  high  above  me 
Can  honor  thus  his  slave  1 

Pasha.  Oh,  joy  !  'tis  true  1 

Shout  dogs  ! 

Syng.  Shout  dogs !  [All  shout. 

Pasha.  Peace,  slave  !  who  spoke  to  you  1 

For  my  sake  you  give  up  the  Corsair  1 

Medora.  Clearly. 

It  can't  be  helped — I'm  sorry  for  him,  really, 
His  fate  is  harsh,  but  even  were  it  harsher. 
Who  would  compare  a  pirate  with  a  Pasha  1 
I  like  a  wealthy  husband — he,  poor  chap. 
Comes  with  a  ring,  but  comes  without  a  rap. 

Pasha.    Huzza  !     Shout,  dogs  !  [All  shout. 

Enter  Gulnare,  Zuliema,  and  Ladies,  r. 

Gul.  What  means  this  dreadful  clatter  1 

Pasha.  [Aside.]  Gulnare,  the  deuce  !     There'll  be  a  scene — no  matteu 
[Aloud.]  Release  the  Corsair  ! 

Syng  Smaul  opens  door,  r.  2  e.  ;  Conrad  appears. 

Quick — his  chains  unbind  ! 

Conrad,  you're  free  ! 
Conrad.  You're  really  very  kind. 

Pasha.     There,  there,  be  off — for  thanks  you  needn't  tarry. 
Conrad.  But  that  young  person  I'm  about  to  marry — 

She  goes  with  me,  of  course  ! 


22  ~  THE    CORSAIR. 

Medora.  Nay,  Conrad ! 

Conrad.  What  1 

You,  too,  desert  me  ! 
Gid.  [Aside  to  him.]  Recollect  my  plot. 

Medora.  Hear  me  ! 

Conrad.  Away  !  you're  false— you  can't  deny  it  ! 

Medora.  [Aside  to  him.}  I'm  but  pretending. 
Conrad.  Aside  to  her.]  So  am  I — be  quiet ! 

Oh,  misery  !  worse  than  prison,  bonds  and  fetters  ! 
Pa-iha.    Enough,  young  man — she  is  to  wed  your  betters. 

Ladies,  behold  your  future  queen  !  - 

Zuli.  What,  she  1 

What's  to  become  of  me  1 
Gid.  And  me  1 

Conrad.  And  me  ! 

Pasha.     Can't  say,  I'm  sure. 
Zuli.  This  fills  with  grief  my  cup  ; 

Support  me  !     Oh,  woe — woe  !     [Faints  and  is  home  off,  R. 
Conrad.       ''  Gee  wo — pull  up  ! 

False  maid !    [Aside  to  her.]    All  right.    [Aloud.]    Can  you 
desert  me  thus  1 
Pasha.     Of  course  the  girl  can't  marry  both  of  us  ! 
Medora.  And  since  my  love  cannot  divided  be, 

You,  Conrad,  must  give  up  your  chere  amie  (share  o'me.) 
Conrad,.  Enough!     I  from  the  unequal  contest  cease; 

My  heart  is  broken,  but  I'll  keep  the  peace ; 

And,  since  yours  is  the  victory,  I'll  be  calm. 

Thus  I  give  up  her  hand,  and  yield  the  palm. 
Medora.  Say  we  part  friends. 
Conrad.  AVe  do,  though  grief  oppressing. 

[  Weeping  and  joining  their  hands 

Take  her,  be  happy — take  a  Corsair's  blessing. 
Pasha.    Thanks  !  you  are  free — you  now  may  cut,  and  when 

You  have  cut,  mind,  you  needn't  come  again. 
Conrad.  Fear  not. 
Gul.  [Aside  to  him.]  Return  at  midnight — you  can  save  her, 

And  also  do  me  a  great  wedding  favor. 
Conrad.  Farewell  !  away  my  lonely  course  I  take. 

You  needn't  trouble  to  send  cards  or  cake.  [Exit,  h 

Pasha.     Quick,  slaves  !  make  preparation,  though  'tis  late  ; 

This  evening  we'll  the  nuptials  celebrate. 

Bright  garlands  on  the  walls  of  every  room  stick, 

And  bid  the  priest  prepare  the  wedding  broomstick. 

[E.ceunt  Syxg  S.madl  and  Guards,  l. 
Gul.         Come,  madam,  to  your  room  let  me  conduct  you. 

[Aside.]  Then  of  my  plans  more  fully  I'll  instruct  you. 
Medora.  Come,  come.  [Exeunt  Medora  and  Gulnare,  b. 

Enter  Syng  S.maul  and^  Gctards,  l. 

Pasha.  How  now,  slave  1 


THE    CORSAIK. 


2S 


Syng.  Sire,  the  broomstick's  ready 

The  priest  awaits. 
Pasha.  Down,  throbbing  heart — be  steady  ! 

Oh,  happiness  !  soon  I  my  wife  shall  call'her. 

She  comes. 

Enter  Gulnare,  veiled,  followed  hy  Women,  r. 

Holloa  !  it  strikes  me  she's  grown  taller. 
Gul.         Sire,  can  you  wonder  that  I  taller  stand, 

Now  you've  made  me  the  highest  in  the  land  1 

Pasha.    Accept  this  ring ;  for  ever  thus  united 

Shall  we  proceed  1 
Gul.  Sire,  I  shall  be  delighted. 

[Wedding  3Iarch.     Exeunt  in  procession,  L. 

Enter  Medora,  r. 

Medora.  Saved  !     Saved  !     Oulnare  will  marry,  in  my  stead. 
Blessed  land,  where  veils  are  worn  upon  the  head, 
Screening  the  face,  secure  from  all  beholders — 
Instead  of  bonnets  half  way  down  the  shoulders  ! 
But  for  that  fashion,  all  our  plans  would  fail : 
Nought  can  succeed,  when  its  without  avail. 
They  come  !  [Exit,  r. 

3Iarch  repeated.    Re-enter  Pasha,  Gulxare  ;  Ladies  dancing  hefon 
them,  bearing  flowers,  ^"c. ;  Syng  Sjiaul,  Gctards,  ^~c.,  l. 

Pasha.     'Tis  done,  the  marriage  rites  are  ended  1 

Go,  fellows,  and  prepare  a  banquet  splendid. 

Lights,  music,  wine,  provide  in  our  pavilion ; 

Wine  for  ten  thousand — music  for  the  million.  , 

[Exeunt  Syng  Sjiaul  and  Guards,  l. 
Pasha.     And  you,  dear,  go  remove  your  veil. 
Gul.  I  will ! 

Come,  girls.  [Exeunt  Gulnare  and  Ladies,  r. 

Pasha.  Now,  how  the  weary  time  to  kill  1 

She'll  be  at  least  an  hour  and  a  quarter. 

She  comes ! 

Enter  Medora,  r. 

Holloa  !  it  strikes  me  she's  grown  shorter  ! 
Medora.  What !  wonder  if  my  head  less  high  is  carried! 

Folks  always  settle  down  when  they  get  married. 
Pasha.    Come  to  my  arms. 

[Medora  rims  toivards  him  and  stops,  frightened. 
You  shun  them'? 
Medora.  Nay,  my  fright ! 

Was  at  your  weapons — not  your  arms. 

[Takes  pistols  from  his  belt. 
That's  right. 
Medora.  Say,  are  they  loaded  "? 


24 


THE    CORSAIR. 


Pasha. 
Medora. 


Medora. 


Pasha. 

Medora. 
Conrad. 

Medora. 
Conrad. 

Pasha. 

Medora. 

Pasha. 

Medora. 


Pasha. 


Gid. 

Pasha. 

Gul. 

Pasha. 

Gul. 

Pasha. 


Powdered,  balled,  and  capped. 
Good  gracious  !         [Lays  them  doion  at  window. — Aside. 
Now,  I  think  you're  nicely  trai)ped.     [She  dances  playfully 
round  him,  he  follows  with  his  hands  raised  supplicatingly. 
Oh,  what  an  attitude  !  stay,  keep  them  so. 

[Takes  a  scarf  from,  her  waist  and  tics  them,  he  laughing. 
Beautiful,  charming  !  Hah  !  he's  there  ! 

[Conrad  appears  at  window,  l. 
Holloa ! 
Guards!  treason  ! 

[Catching  up  pistols.]  Peace  !  another  word,  you  die! 
Medora  !  quick  !  come,  by  this  window  fly  ! 
Say,  can  you  squeeze  these  narrow  bars  between  1 
I  can. 

Oh,  joy  '  she  wears  no  crinoline. 

[Medora  gels  through  windoio. 
One  word,  one  question  ! 

AVell  ■? 

That  pistol,  drop  it. 
Is  that  the  question  1  peace,  then,  or  I'll  pop  it. 

[They  disappear. — Tlie  Pasha  goes  to  the  window. — A 
pistol  is  discharged  without. 

Gone  ! — treason  ! — murder  ! — help  !     My  guards,  what  ho  ! 

Guards  rush  in,  l.  1  e.,  Gplnare  and  Ladies,  k. 

What  means  this  cry  ? 


My  bride  has  fled. 


Here  stands  your  bride. 


Not  so ; 


'Tis  false ! 


Ladies,  salute  your  queen. 


This  ring  behold ! 
Done  !  swindled  !  sold  ! 


[Falls  into  the  arms  of  Syng  Smaul. — Ladies  kneel  to 
Gdlrare.     Tableau — closed  in. 

SCENE  VII.— ^  Wood. 

Serena  ^nd  Sobjiarina  oHse  through  traps,  r.  and  l. 

Suh.        Good  night,  Serena,  how  d'ye  do  1 

Serena.  Why  who 

On  earth  would  ever  dream  of  seeing  you  1 
Sub.         Why  not  1 
Serena.  I  mean  the  sea's  your  proper  berth. 

So  ask  who'd  dream  of  seeing  you  on  earth  1 
Sub.         I've  come  to  seek  you. 

Serenu.  What  for,  may  I  ask  1 

Sub.         To  know  how  you're  progressing  with  your  task. 

Have  you  cured  Conrad  yet  1 


THE    CORSAIR.  25 

Serena.  Well,  very  nearly. 

Suh.         Your  mcntli  expires  to-morrow. 

Serena.  Does  it,  really  ? 

To-night  then  must  decide — hut  see — lie's  here ! 

Let  us  retire. 

3Iusic. — Enter  Conead,  supporting  Medoka,  l. 

Conrad.  Come,  come,  Medora  dear ; 

Rest  here,  I'll  call  for  help. 
Medora.  'Twould  be  no  good. 

To  holloa,  till  we're  quite  out  of  the  wood. 
Conrad.  Could  I  but  find  the  path,  we'd  soon  get  home ; 

The  way  to  Greece,  should  be  our  way  to  roam. 

Had  I  a  compass,  we'd  know  how  to  steer. 
Medora.  Without  the  needle,  we're  sewed  up,  that's  clear  ; 

But  still,  I  always  thought  you  roving  tars. 

To  find  your  way,  oft  had  to  thank  your  stars. 
Conrad.  In  this  thick  wood,  my  science  is  at  fault, 

I  cannot  see  them  !     Come,  let's  on,  though. 

Enter  Bikbaxto,  with  Corsaie.?,  e. 

Birl.  Halt! 

So,  then,  we've  met ;  at  last  my  turn  arrives. 
Medora.  [Kneeling.]  Mercy  !     Take  all  we  have,  but  spare  our  lives. 
Conrad.  Medora,  rise  !     Speak,  friends — why  this  hostility  1 

Birb.       You  are  accused 

Medora.  Of  what  1 

Birb.  Respectability! 

Conrad.  You've  heard  of  it,  then  1 

Birb.  Yes,  and  they  have  picked  out 

Another  leader,  vice  Conrarl,  kicked  out. 
Conrad.  And  may  I  ask,  who  my  late  post  now  fills  1 

Birb.        His  name's  Birbanto,  on  the  Grampian  Hills 

Conrad.  Indeed!  I  wish  you  joy. — Come.     [Taking  Medora's  arm 
Birb.  Not  so  fast ! 

Secure  them. 
Conrad.  How ! 

Medora.  Help  !  help  I 

Enter  Syng  Smaul  and  Guaeds,  l. 

Syng.  So  caught  at  last. 

Yield,  all  of  you. 
Birb.  Come,  my  lads,  ho  !  strike  for  freedom  ! 

You  won't  1 
Conrad.  [Laughing.]  Not  they,  they've  not  got  me  to  lead  'era. 
Ist  Cors.  Resume  your  post,  and  save  us,  we  implore. 
2d  Cors.  Do,  sir  ;  we'll  never  disobey  you  more. 
Birb.       Cowards  ! 
Conrad.  Resume  my  post — 'tis  a  temptation. 


26 


THK    CORSAIR. 


Medora.  Ob,  no!  think  of  your  vows  of  reformation, , 
For  my  sake  ' 

Serena  appears,  watching  him  with  anxiety, 

Conrad.  True !     I'll  keep  them,  love,  with  pleasure. 

Sirs,  my  reform  must  be  a  final  measure. 
Serena.    He's  saved  ! 
Si/7iff.  No  more  discussion.     March — yet  stay — 

What's  that  1     Another  prisoner  comes  tliis  way. 


Enter  Yusscf  chained — two  Guards  following,  L. 

Yussuf.  [Sings.]   Why  did  Medora  sell  me  1 

Throacrli  her  these  woes  befel  me. 
Why  did  Medora  sell  me, 
And  bolt  on  her  wedding  day  1 

Medora.  My  uncle,  and  in  chain?; ! 

Yussuf.  False  critter,  see 

These  fixins.     You  'twas  forged  these  bonds  for  me. 
Medora.  I  am  no  forger,  sir. 
Conrad.  Cease  this  debate — 

We've  heard  too  much  of  forging  bonds  of  late. 
Syng.       Now,  guards,  conduct  your  prisoners  to  their  gaol. 
Serena.  [Advances.]  Hold  !  for  this  couple,  sir,  I  put  in  bail, 
Conrad.  Halloa  !  my  friend,  tlie  fairy. 
Serena.  Yes,  the  friend 

Of  all  who,  like  you,  strive  tlieir  ways  to  mend. 

You've  kept  your  word — with  freedom  I  requite  you. 

And  to  the  Peris  home  to  sup,  invite  you. 
Medora.  Oh,  joy.  [Conrad  and  Medora  embrace, 

Serena.  The  rest  must  undergo  their  sentence. 

Birb.        Hold  on !     I  see  there's  nothing  like  repentance — 

So  I'll  turn  steady,  too. 
Serena.  You  settle  down  "^ 

Birb.       I'll  start  a  public  company  in  town  ; 

Turn  a  strict  man  of  business — try  stock-jobbery 

On  the  Exchange  !     My  cry — exchange  no  robbery. 

Song  and  Chorus. — Air,  "One  Bumper  at  Farting." 

Birh  A  company  starting,  though  many 

Have  tried  it  and  found  it  no  go  ; 
I'll  endeavor  at  turning  a  penny, 

AVe  won't  say  if  honest,  or  no. 
Guess  I'm  mortal  sick  of  slave  driving, 

Respectable  dodges  pay  best ; 
So  if  this  here  company's  thriving. 

I'm  there  like  a  shot,  with  the  rest. 


Tussuf. 


TUF.    CORSAIR. 


27 


Conrad.  A  real  model  husband  I  mean  to  be ; 

All  my  used-up-ishness  past, 
I  forswear,  since  the  world  I  have  seen  to  bo 

Not  quite  so  worthless  at  last, 
One  favor  I'd  ask,  do  not  spurn  it,  your 

Aid,  I'm  quite  strange  to  it  yet — 
Do  you  know  a  good  place  to  buy  furniture. 

Or  a  snug  cottage  to  let  % 

Enter  Pasha  and  Gulnare,  k. 

Pasha.  Here,  stop,  I  intend,  by  the  wig  o'  me, 

In  this  improvement  to  share, 
Henceforward  renouncing  polygamy, 
Stick  to  my  own  dear  Gulnare. 
Gill.  New  hopes  in  my  breast  do  you  kindle ; 

I'll  make  you  the  happiest  of  men  ; 
Having  gained  all  I  wished  by  one  swindle, 
I'll  never  deceive  you  again. 

Serena.  Kind  friends,  in  this  great  reform  movement, 

No  share  for  yourselves  will  you  find, 
In  your  case  there's  no  room  for  improvement; 

But  be — as  you  ever  were — kind. 
And  now  for  the  home  of  the  Peri — 

Bright  scenes,  where  we're  bidden  to  sup ; 
But,  remember,  the  brightest  look  dreary, 
Unless  by  your  smiles  lighted  up. 

[Repeat  last  verse  in  chorus. 

The  scene  opens  and  discovers 


SCENE  Ylll.—The  Home  of  the  Peri  and  Golden  Gates  of  the  Gar- 
dens of  Perennial  Spring. 

Sdbmarina  appears,  and  the  usual  transformation  of  the  characters 
takes  place — Two  Clowns,  Harlequin,  Pantaloon,  three  whalebone 
sprites,  and  two  Columbines. 


THE    MINOR    DRAMA. 

2r!)e  ^ctfiifl  22tJftfon. 
No.  CXLVIII. 


/V  PHENOMENON 

IN  A  SMOCK  FROCK. 

BY    WILLIAM     BROUGH 

Author  of  " ApaHmenis"   ^^ House  out  of  Windoivs,'"   "IViose  Dear 
Blacks,"  ''Uncle  Tom's  Crib,"  ^c,  ijc,  .j^c. 


TO   WHICH   ARK  AODED 


A  Dessription  of  the  Costume — Cast  of  the  Characters — Entrances  and  Exits- 
Relative  Positions  of  the  Performers  on  the  Stage,  and 
the  whole  of  the  Stage  Business 


AS    PERFORMED    AT    THE 


PRINCIPAL  ENGLISH  AND  AMERICAN  THEATRES. 


NEW     YORK: 

SAMUEL     FRENCH, 

122  Nassau  Strekt,  (Up  Stairs.) 


Cast  of  t\)t  ffiljaractcrs. — [A  Phenomenon  in  a  Smock  Frock.] 

Lyceum,  London.     WaUack's,  1855. 
Mk.  Sowerberry,        -        -        Mr.  F.  Matthews.     Mr.  J.  Stoddart 
John  Buttercup,*  a  milkman,      Mr.  C.  Mathews.      Mr.  Vincent. 
Mr.  Barker,  -    -        -        -        Mr.  II.  Ilorncastle.  Mr.Chippendale 
James,  Sowerberrj''s  servant,  -     Mr.  Templeton.        Mr.  Oliver. 

Mrs.  Barker,         -        .        .    Miss  Fanny  Baker.  Mrs.  Conover. 
Betsey  Chirrup,         -        -        Miss  C.  Mitchel.      Mrs.  Stephens. 
*  This  character  should  be  played  -with  a  strong  Somersetsbire  dialect. 
Period,  Present,     Time  in  Representation,  fifty  minutes. 


STAGE     DIRECTIONS. 


L.  means  First  Entrance,  Left.  R.  First  Entrance,  Right.  S.  E.  L. 
Second  Entrance,  Left.  S.  E.  R.  Second  Entrance,  Right.  U.  E.  L. 
Upper  Entrance,  Left.  U.  E.  R.  Upper  Entrance,  Right.  C.  Centre. 
L.  0.  Left  Centre.  R.  C.  Right  of  Centre.  T.  E.  L.  Third  Entrance, 
Left.  T.  E.  R.  Third  Entrance,  Right.  C.  D.  Centre  Door.  D.  R. 
Door  Right.  D.  L.  Door  Left.  U.  D.  L.  Upper  Door,  Left.  U.  D.  R. 
Upper  Door,  Right. 

*^*  The  reader  is  supposed  to  be  on  the  Stage,  facing  the  Audience. 


®  0  s  turn  e  . — [A  Phexomexox  ix  a  Smock  Frocic] 

SOWERBERRY.— Old-fashioned  black  suit.  At  liis  first  entrance,  a 
large  flowered  dressing  gown — afterwards,  a  broad-tailed  coat. 

BUTTERCUP.— Cord  breeches— gaiters— thick  hob-nailed  boots- 
white  smock  frock — glazed  hat,  with  name  of  dairy  painted  on  it — • 
cotton  handkerchief  round  his  neck — milk-pails  and  yoke.  Second 
dress :  Take  otF  smock  frock  and  gaiters,  having  blue  worsted 
stockings  under  them — put  on  black-tailed  coat. 

BARKER. — Genteel  walking  dress — frock  coat,  &c. 

JAMES. — Servant's  livery. 

MRS.  BARKER. — Slate-colored  silk  dress — yellow  bonnet  —red  shawl. 
BETSEY  CHIRRUP— Cotton  dress. 


A  PHENOMENON  IN  A  SMOCK  EROCK. 


SCENE. — A  Drawing  Room,  neatly  furnished.  Practicable  doors,  C,  R.  and 
L, — a  ivinduw,  i,.  c. — sofa,  v.. — table,  with  writing  materials,  U.  Each 
character  entering  from  the  gardeti  is  first  seen  to  pass  the  window  from  L., 
and  knock  at  door. 

Enter  Betsey  Chirrup,  c,  meeting  James,  r.  u.  d, 

James,  [r.]  Ob.  Mrs.  Chirrup  !  mind,  master  isn't  at  home  to  any- 
body to-day. 

Chir.  [}..']  Not  at  home — eh,  James  ?  Ah !  just  like  him.  Of  all 
th(!  old  owls  that  ever  lived But  there,  I  say  notliing. 

James.  People  call  him  a  misantlirope.     What's  that,  Mrs.  Chirrup? 

Cliir.  Oh,  I  don't  know,  James — /  can't  talk  French.  But  what's 
he  doing  now? 

James.  Well,  just  now  he's  shaving.  He's  had  his  breakfast,  and  he 
says  he  shall  go  back  to  bed  again. 

Chir.  And  stop  there  all  day,  I'll  warrant  him,  as  he  .says,  to  see  as 
little  as  possible  of  his  fellow  creaiures  ;  I  never  saw  such  a  man,  he 
can't  Lciir  the  sight  of  a  human  being — hates  everything  and  every- 
body. 

Sou-er.  [Outside,  R.  u.]  There,  there,  just  the  way  with  them  all. 

Chir.  He's  coming,  and  in  a  precious  temper.  Come,  James,  let's 
get  out  of  his  way  lor  goodness'  sake.  [Exeunt,  c.  d. 

SowEitnKitRV.  in  a  dressing  gown,  enters.  R.  n  d  ,  gloomllg — he  has  a  razor 
in  his  hand,  and  his  chin  partlg  cwered  with  soap. 

Soiver.  Why  was  I  born  of  woman — why  did  not  nature  make  of  me  a 
dog — ?\  mouse — a  hip[)Opotamus — anything  hut  man?  Here,  now,  I 
bought  this  razor  yesterday  ;  'twas  warranted  to  cut — it  won't  cut, 
and  yet  I'm  blamed  for  nut  loving  the  human  race.  Love  them,  in- 
deed !  a  set  of  thieves  and  swindlers  1  there's  no  truth  nor  honesty  in 
the  worlds    The  other  day  1  wanted  a  pair  of  gloves— I  saw  some  in 


A  PHENOJIENON  IN  A  SMOCK  FROCK.  6 

a  shop  window,  plainly  marked  2s.,  I  went  in.  I  boJJght  a  pair,  and 
then  1  found  ll|d.  niuilvLd  in  micro.-copic  characters,  and  in  the  faint- 
est pencil.  Di.'^gusted  wiih  this  piece  ol  infamy,  and  sick  at  heart,  I 
rusiied  into  a  taveiii,  called  lor  l)randy — bah,  they  gave  me  British! 
and  yet  Tm  expected  to  love  mankind.  They're  all  alike.  There's 
my  pocket-book  I  loi^t  last  night,  with  fllty  pounds  in  it.  Where 
could  I  have  dropped  that?  where!  what  matter  where!  It's  all  the 
same — whoever  linds  it,  he'll  not  bo  honest  enou;rh  to  brill^  it  back, 
althougli  my  name's  in  it.  Honest,  pshaw  !  there's  no  such  thino:  as 
an  honest  man.  Dioirenes  might  have  saved  himself  some  pounds  of 
candles  if  he  knew  the  world  as  well  as  I  do.  They're  all  swindlers 
and  liars — why  should  I  mix  with  them?  wliy  should  I  even  see 
them?— I  won't.  No!  I'll  go  back  to  bed  again.  Here,  James, 
James,  I  say.  Now,  there's  another  specimen  of  human  nature.  I've 
called  that  fellow  twice,  and  he  pretends  he  doesn't  hear  me.  And 
yet  I'm  expected  to  love  my  fellow  creatures.     James,  I  say  ! 

Enter  James,  c.  d. 

James.  Yes,  sir. 

Suwer.  [r.]  Yes,  sir  !  Now  there's  a  fellow  that  will  lie  to  my  very 
face. 

James,  [l.]  Did  you  call,  sir  ? 

Soicer.  Did  I  call!  Falsehood!  deceit!  as  if  he  didn't  know  I 
called!  Come  here,  James ;  look  me  in  the  face,  and  tell  me  the 
truth  for  once.     How  do  I  look  this  morning? 

James.  Sir  !  [Aside.']   What  is  he  at  ? 

Sower.  Come,  no  equivocation,  speak. 

James.  AVell,  sir,  I  havea't  seen  you  look  so  well,  sir,  for  a  long 
time. 

Saicer.  Indeed! 

James.  No,  sir,  your  complexion  is  as  clear  a  young  baby's,  sir. 

Sower.  It's  false,  you  scoundrel !  ray  complexion's  like  a  Flanders 
brick.  Leave  me,  I'll  have  no  more  of  your  falsehoods — go,  leave  my 
house  this  instant. 

James.  Oh,  sir,  I've  been  a  good  servant  to  you. 

Sower.  You've  not — there  are  no  good  servants.  Go,  never  let  me 
Bee  your  face  again.  [&i<  Jamks,  c.  d.]  I'll  have  no  servants.  I'll 
live  alone,  and  emulate  the  happy  oyster — never  leave  my  bed,  and 
dwell  secluded  in  my  peaceful  shell.  Oh,  would  I  had  been  born  an 
oyster!     Then  the  wounds  my  spirit  has  received  already  might,  in 

in  my  calm  retirement,  produce  rich  pearls  of  wisdom.     As  it  is 

[.4  knock  is  heard.}  What's  that? 

Chir.  \_Outside,  c]  No,  sir,  Mr.  Sowerberry  is  not  at  home. 

Bar.  \OHtside.}  Nonsense  !  he's  always  at  home  to  me. 

Sower.  Barker  !  the  devil  take  him  ! 

Chir.  But  he's  not,  sir,  really. 

Bar.  Pooh,  pooh!  he's  never  out  this  time  of  day. 
Enter  Barker,  c.  d. 
Ah,  here  he  is,  of  course.     Ha!  my  dear  friend. 

Sower.  [Aside,  li.}  Dear  friend! — the  hypocrite!  [^Iloud.]  Good 
morning. 


6  A  PUEXOMEXON  IN  A  SMOCK  FROCK. 

Bar.  [l.]  "Well,  and  how  are  you? 

Soiccr.  111. 

Bar.  You  don't  cay  so.    Now,  do  you  know  what  brought  mc  here? 

Smcer.  No.  [Aside.']  I  wish  I  knew  what  would  take  him  away  again. 

Bar.  Wliy,  my  -wiCe  dreamt  last  night  that  you  were  not  well,  so  I 
could  not  re.'^t  till  I  knew  the  truth. 

Sourer.  Oh  !  your  wife  dreamt  ot  me,  did  she  ?  Ah !  phe's  a  charm- 
ing little  woman.     1  suppose  she's  as  virtuous  as  she  is  beautiful,  eh? 

Bar.  Damme,  sir,  what  do  you  mean  by  that? 

Sowtr.  Nothing.  I  mean,  you're  never  jealous — never  suspect  any- 
thing wrong. 

Bar.  Eh  ?    Why  ?    Have  you  any  reason  to  suspect  ? 

Sower.  No.  I  wish  I  had. 

Bar.  Eh  ? 

Soiver.  That  I  might  have  the  pleasure  of  telling  you — that's  all. 
There  ere  beautiful  women,  you  know,  whose  husbands  are  not  so 
comfortable 

Bar.  [Aside.']  What  can  he  mean?  [Alotid.]  My  dear  friend,  if  you 
have  heard  anything,  I'm  sure  you  will  tell  me. 

Sourer.  Of  course  I  should. 

Bar.  1  know  you  would — you,  my  old,  best  friend. 

Sower.  [Aside.]  He  want's  to  ask  a  favor. 

Bar.  By  the  bye.  you  can  do  me  a  great  service. 

Sou-er.  [Aside.]  I  thought  so. 

Bar.  I  am  in  the  most  pressing  want  of  fifty  pounds.  It'.s  only  for 
a  day  or  two,  but  I  must  have  it  to-day.  Now,  I  know  I  can  depend  on 
you — there  is  no  other  man  living  I  would  a-k  such  a  favor  of. 

Sower.  I  am  very  sorry — I  haven't  so  much  in  the  house. 

Bar.  No,  but  you  will  get  it  for  me — I  know  you  will.  I'll  come 
back  in  half-an-hour.     I  won't  trouble  you  to  send  it  to  me. 

Sower.  Indeed!  you  are  very  kind. 

Bar.  Oh,  not  at  all.  Here,  write  me  a  cheque.  I'll  go  to  the  bank 
myself — save  you  sending. 

Sower.  No.  I'm  going  there  myself  directly. 

Bar.  That's  right,  a  walk  will  do  you  good.  By  the  bye,  you're 
looking  very  well  in  spite  of  what  you  say. 

Soiver.  Am  I  ?     That's  the  style. 

Bar.  Good  morning.     I'll  be  back  in  half-an-hour.         [Exit,  c.  D. 

Soiver.  I'm  looking  very  well! — flattery!  falsehood!  Bah!  they're 
all  alike.  Why  can't  men  speak  the  truth  ?  The  proverb  says  it  isn't 
right  to  do  so  at  all  times.  Egad,  I  wish  they'd  try  it ;  I  know 
'twould  never  hurt  me  if  folks  told  me  truth  all  day.  And  he'll 
come  back  in  half-an-hour,  will  he  ? 

[Goes  to  bell,  R.  H.,  and  rinys  viulcnily. 

Enter  Betsey  Chirrup,  c.  d. 

When  Mr.  Barker  calls  again,  tell  him  I'm  gone  to  Windsor — Bir- 
mingham— Australia — anywhere. 

Chir.  Yes,  sir. 

Sower.  Mind,  if  you  let  him  see  me  again  to-day,  I'll  strangle  you. 

[Exit,  R.  H.  D. 


A  PHENOMENON  IN  A  SMOCK  FROCK.  7 

Chir.  Well,  I'm  sure — whatever  is  the  matter  with  bim  to-day  !  he's 
worse  than  ever.  \_Knock  is  heard. 

But.  lOutside.l  Miaou! 

Chir.  [Looking  out  of  icindow.']  Why,  I  declare,  there's  the  afternoon 
milk  already.  Well,  Mr.  Bnttercup  really  is  a  very  nice-looking 
young  man,  and  since  master  is  so  ill-tempered,  I've  positively  a  good 
mind  to ■ 

BuTTEKCUP  ajipears,  c.  D.,  attired  in  a  long  smock  frock,  tcith  milk  pails, 
yoke,  Sfc. 

But.  Miaou !  Where  be  ye  all  ?  why  don't  "e  come  to  door — eh  ? 
Why,  door  be  open. 

Chir.  Good  gracious!  Mr.  Buttercup,  what  are  you  doing  here  in 
the  parlor  with  your  milk  pails? 

But.  Now  don't  ye  speak  cross  to  I,  Mrs.  Chirrup,  you  know  I  can't 
bear  it  from  you.  I  be  come  with  the  milk.  How  be  ye  to-day,  ma'am  ? 
be  ye  pretty  bobbish? 

Chir.  But  to  come  in  here.     Why,  if  Mr.  Sowerberry  saw  you 

But.  Well,  I  don't  mind  tolling  you,  Mrs.  Chirrup,  that's  just  what 
I  be  come  for.     I've  got  a  little  business  with  him. 

Chir.  Business  !  you  ? 

But.  Yes,  I — so  where  is  he  ?    I've  got  no  time  to  lose 

Chir.  But  you  can't  see  him. 

But.  But  I  tell  ye  I  must.    Where  be  he — in  here  ? 

[Going  to  room,  B.  H. 

Chir.  No,  don't  go  there — he's  fast  asleep  in  bed. 

But.  In  bed  !  what,  and  just  upon  half  arter  two  o'clock.  It's  full 
time  he  were  up,  that's  all  I  know.  [Knock  at  door,  r.  h.]  Here,  come, 
get  up  I  say.    Miaou  !  [Sings. 

"  Wake,  wake,  ye  drowsy  sleepers, 
Awake,  awake,  'tis  almost  day, 
And  put  your  head  out  of  the  window, 
To  hear  what  your  true  lovier  has  to  say." 

Chir.  Good  heavens!  what  are  you  about?  He's  coming.  Won't 
he  be  in  a  rage  !     Come  away,  he'll  murder  us.  [Exit,  c. 

Sower.  [Entering.']  What  is  the  meaning  of  this?  Who  are  you, 
fellow  ?    How  dare  you  disturb  me  ? 

Bid.  [l.]  Disturb  you,  at  half  arter  two  o'clock  !  Why,  you  ought 
to  be  ashamed  of  yourself — in  bed  on  a  fine  day  like  this  I 

Sower,  [r.]  What  do  you  want  ?  who  are  you  ? 

But.  Well,  sir,  I  be  John  Buttercup,  as  do  serve  this  house  with 
milk. 

Sower.  Milk !  [Goes  up  towards  milk  pails. 

But.  There,  don't  ye  look  at  my  pails  in  that  manner,  or  you'll 
turn  all  the  milk  sour. 

Smccr.  What  do  you  want  ?     Speak  quickly. 

But.  Well,  on  my  early  rounds  this  morning,  I  happened  to  pich  up 
something  not  far  from  here 

Sower.  What's  that  to  me  ? 

But.  Well,  I  be  coming  to  that  if  you'll  only  hold  your  gab.  When  I 
gothome  I  found — butstoi^.mayhap  1  be  wrong;  haveyou  lo>t  anything? 


8  A    PnENOMENO.V    IN    A    SMOCK    FKOCK. 

Sower.  Lost?  eh! — yes,  a  pocket-book. 

Hut.  There,  now,  didu't  I  tell  you? 

Soiver.  And  you  have  found  it? 

But.  Wait  a  bit  j  mayhap  it  bean't  yourn,  after  all.  What  color 
was  it? 

Sower.  Black. 

But.  And  what  was  inside  of  it? 

Sower.  Bank  notes. 

But.  How  much  ? 

Sower.  Fifty  pounds. 

But.  [Giving  book.']  All  right — there  you  be — take  care  of  it  next 
time.     Now,  good  bye  to  you.  [Going. 

Sower.  My  pocket-book  returned !  is  it  possible  ?  What,  going  1 
Here,  you — what's  your  name  ? — milkman  ! 

Bui.  Eh  !  what's  the  matter  ?    It  be  all  right,  bean't  it  ? 

Sower.  But  you  forgot.  I  have  not  rewarded  you  for  your  trouble 
in  bringing  it  back. 

But.  Oh !  no  trouble  at  all,  thank'ee — I  were  coming  this  way  with 
the  milk. 

Sower.  Well,  for  your  honesty,  then. 

But.  Get  out  with  ye !  a  man  bean't  honest  for  the  sake  of  being 
paid  for  it. 

Sower.  Well,  you  %vill  accept  of  this  half-sovereign? 

But.  AVhat  should  I  take  your  half-sovereign  for?  I've  done  nothing 
to  earn  it. 

Sower.  You  won't  take  it? 

But.  No. 

Sower.  [^5!*.]  What  can  he  mean?  It's  not  enough,  perhaps. 
[Aloud.']  Here,  then — a  sovereign. 

But.  Now,  do  you  take  me  for  such  a  scamp  that  I  can't  do  an 
honest  action  without  taking  money  for  it? 

Sower.  Two  sovereigns. 

Bui.  Now,  I'll  just  tell  ye  what  it  is — if  you  go  on  tempting  me 
with  your  confounded  sovereigns  and  half-sovereigns,  I'll  give  you 
the  finest  hiding  you've  had  for  many  a  long  day.  So  there!  good 
bye  to  ye.  [Going,  c. 

Sower.  [Jtside.]  What  a  splendid  burst  of  virtuous  indignation  !  la 
it  possible  that  beneath  that  lowly  garb  I  have  at  length  discovered 
the  phenomenon,  an  honest  man?  [Jtloud.]  Here,  stop,  my  friend — 
my  worthy  friend.    What  did  you  say  your  name  was? 

Bui.  John  Buttercup. 

Sower.  John  Buttercup,  you  are  a  magnificent  fellow. 

But.  Bel?  Well,  it's  more  than  I  can  say  for  you,  old  chap,  at 
any  rate. 

Sower.  Superb !  untainted  by  the  vice  of  flattery,  too !  Can  it  be 
possible  ?     Wonderful  creature,  look  at  me,  and  do  tell  truth. 

But.  What's  the  matter  with  ye  ?    I  always  tell  the  truth. 

Soiver.  You  do,  I  am  sure. 

But.  Yes,  down  in  the  parts  I  come  from,  they  used  to  call  I  Honest 
John,  'cause  I  never  could  make  up  a  good  lie.  I  did  try  once,  when 
I  were  at  school ;  and  lor,  didn't  old  master  wollop  I  for  it !    I  never 


A    PHEXOJIEKOX    IS    A    6M0CK    FROCK.  9 

tried  afterwards.  Poor  old  master  ! — he's  been  transported  since  tliafc 
for  sheep-stealing. 

Sower.  'Tis  useless  to  apply  the  test.  But  look  at  me.  Say,  how 
do  I  look  this  morning  1 

But.  Well,  the  same  as  you  always  look  when  I  see  you — darna- 
tion  ugly. 

Sower.  [r.J  Candor  itself !     Magnificent! — and  my  complexion  1 

But.  [l.]  Like  a  rotten  apple. 

Sower.  Delightful ! — And  my  walk  1  [  Walks  to  l. 

But.  Like  a  lame  duck  in  a  farm-yard. 

Sower.  Sublime  ! 

But.  But  I  can't  stop  here  all  day,  paying  you  compliments  like 
this — I  must  be  oft".  [  Going. 

Sower.  No — do  not  leave  me. 

But.  Why  1  What  nonsense  you  be  talking  !  What's  to  become  of 
my  business  1 

Sower.  A  great  idea !  I'll  do  it !  Hear  me  friend.  In  your  low 
walk  of  life 

But.  A  low  walk  1  Get  along  with  ye  !  Mine's  as  respectable  a 
milk-walic  as  any  going. 

Soicer.  I  don't  mean  that.  But  tell  me — what  do  you  earn  now,  on 
the  average,  by  your  business  1 

But.  Why  do  you  ax  ?     Be  you  the  collector  of  Income-tax  1 

Soicer.  No.     Answer  me,  I  beg. 

But.  Well,  if  you  must  know,  about  eighteen  shillings  a  week. 

Sower.  No  more  1 

But.  No.  I  might  perhaps  make  more,  if  I  did  as  some  folks  do — 
put  all  sorts  of  rubbish  in  the  milk.  But  hang  it,  when  I  see  the  cows 
looking  so  innocent-like  at  me,  1  haven't  the  heart  to  bring  disgrace 
upon  them. 

Sower.  Great  creature !  Would  you  like  that  income  doubled — 
trebled  1 

But.  Well,  yes,  of  course  I  should. 

Sower.  Then  live  with  me — share  my  heart  and  home. 

But.  Live  with  you  1 — what  for  1 

Sower.  For  two  pound  ten — three  pounds  a  week. 

But.  And  what  to  do  for  it  1 

Sower.  Do  1  Speak  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the 
truth. 

But.  Why,  that's  nothing.     Any  fool  can  speak  the  truth. 

Sower.  True  ;  but  how  few  are  fools  enough  to  do  it !  Listen — I  am 
surrounded  by  knaverj'  and  falsehood.  Your  task  shall  be  to  root  up 
these  lilthy  weeds  as  fast  as  they  appear.     Is  it  a  bargain  1 

But.  Three  pounds  a  week  1  Yes  !  But  stop ;  p'r'aps  after  the  first 
week  you'll  change  your  mind,  and  turn  me  out  of  doors. 

Sower.  Never !  I  pledge  my  word  of  honor ! 

But.  Oh  y<^s! — a  deal  men  care  about  honor,  when  it  don't  suit 
them  to  keep  their  promise.     No, — good  day  !  [  Going. 

Sower.  What  beautiful  contempt  for  the  human  race ! — Stay,— 
we'll  make  an  agreement  in  writing.    Will  thai  do  1 


10  A    rj'ENOMESON    I.V    A    SilOCK    FROCK. 

But.  Eh? 

Sower.  Yes ;  I'll  take  you  on  a  lease  for  seven  years. 

£ut.  A  lease  1  Three  pounds  a  week,  mind. 

Sower.  [Writing  at  table  l.  ii.J  Yes,  and  your  board. 

But.  Exactly  !  A  lease  for  seven  years,  and  you  to  keep  the  inside 
in  good  condition. 

Sower.  [Still  writing.]  Eureka  !  I've  found  an  honest  man  at  last : 
He's  mine  ;  Now  sign  it. 

But.  Stop  a  minute.  Have  you  mentioned  the  three  pounds  a 
week  1  All  right, — I  see  it.     [Signs.]  Now  you. 

Sower.  [Signs.]  There  !  Now  at  length  I'm  happy.  Truth,  virtue, 
honesty — and  all  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  a  year  ! 

But.  Three  pounds  a  v.'eek  1  I  might  carry  milk  a  long  while  aforo 
I  made  that. — Now,  sir,  come,  set  me  to  work. 

Enter  Betsey  Chirrup  c.  d. 

Sower,  [c]  Just  in  the  nick  of  time.  Buttercup,  my  friend,  you 
may  begin  at  once.  [Buttercup  ^H<s^ai7s  outside,  c.  D. 

Sower.  Come,  Mrs.  Chirrup,  let's  see  your  hoasekeeping  accounts 
for  the  week. 

Chir.  [l.]  Sir.  I  don't  understand  you. 

Sower.  Your  accounts,  I  say  ! 

Chir.  Well,  if  you  must  have  them,  there  !  [Gives  book.]  [Aside.] 
Wliat's  the  matter  now  1 

Soiver.  Now  then,  my  friend,  hear  this,  and  give  me  your  opinion, 
[Reads.]  "  Bread,  18s." 

But.  [k.]  Eighteen  shillings'  worth  of  bread,  and  the  quartern  loaf 
at  sixpence  ? 

Chir.  Eightpence  three-farthings,  as  I'm  a  living  woman  ! 

But.  Sixpence,  I  tell  ye. 

Chir.  Eightpence  three-farthings,  sir. 

Sotver.  So,  three  of  us  have  eaten  nearly  forty  <juartern  loaves. 
[Reads.]  "  Leg  of  mutton,  10s.  6d." 

But.  Too  much  by  3s.  6d.  at  least. 

Chir.  Sir,  if  I  am  to  bo  treated  in  this  way 

Sower.  Silence!  [Reads.]  "  Milk,  2s." 

But.  What's  that  ?— milk  % 

Sower.  Two  shillings. 

But.  Oh,  sir!  excuse  me  if  my  feelings  carrj'  I  away;  [Crosses  io 
c]  but  as  a  milkman  and  a  gentleman,  I  solemnly  assure  you  that 
three-ha'p'orth  a  day  was  all  that  lovely  young  'oman — that  lying 
young  'oman — ever  took. 

Chir.  [Aside  to  him.]  My  dear  Mr.  Buttercup,  you  will  not  betray 
mel 

But.  My  heart  be  tender,  but  my  principles  be  tough, — I  love  the 
gal,  but  expose  the  servant;  and  I  repeat,  three-ha'p'orth  ! 

Chir.  Penn'orths  ! 

But.  Ha'p'orths  ! 

Chir.  True,  sir,  I  did  but  take  thrcc-ha'p'orth  of  this  man ;  but 
then,  his  milk  was  such  vile  stuff — — 


A  FHE.XOMOX  IX  A  SMOCK  FKOCK.  11 

£ut.  What's  that  1 

Chir.  I  was  obliged  to  deal  elsewhere  as  well. 

But.  What ! — abuse  my  milk  1 

Chir.  Milkl  Stuff!  Calves' brains,  and  chalk  and  water. 

But.  I  deny  it !  I  never  used  a  bit  of  chalk  in  all  my  born  days, — 
and  as  for  brains,  such  a  thing  never  entered  my  head  ! 

Chir.  I  repeat  it ! 

But.  1  deny  it ! 

Sower,  [c]  Hold  !  [Gets  between  them.]  Here's  a  scene  for  a  pain- 
ter !  Truth  on  one  side — Falsehood  on  the  other ;  and  in  the  midst, 
myself — calm,  dignified,  serene!  Buttercup,  you  are  sublime  ! 

But.  [l.J  Mayhap  I  be ;  but  she  only  had  tlii-ee-ha'p'orth — and  the 
hest  milk  ever  sold. 

Chir.  [r.]  Three  penn'orth,  if  I  die  for  it. 

Sower.  Go,  my  friend — dinner's  nearly  ready — go  and  take  ofT  that 
smock  frock. 

Bui.  Yes,  I'll  go  and  fetch  my  Sunday  clothes. 

Sower.  No, — go  into  that  room — take  the  best  coat  you  can  find  in 
all  mj'  wardrobe.     Henceforth,  consider  everything  I  have  your  own. 

But.  [Goiyig.]  You're  very  kind ; — you  be  goin' to  keep  the  out- 
side in  repair  as  Avell.     But  she  only  took  three-ha'p'orths. 

Chir.  Penn'orths ! 

But.  Ha'p'orths,  I  tell  ye!  [Exit  r.  h.  d. 

Chir.  Mr.  Sowerburry,  if  I'm  to  have  spies  put  over  me  like  this, 
you'll  please  to  get  another  housekeeper. 

Sower.  What!  part  with  youl  Never!  You  are  invaluable  to  me. 
Your  wickedness  and  depravity  are  necessary  for  the  dark  back- 
ground to  make  my  honest  friend  stand  out  in  bold  relief. 

Chir.  But  since  you  have  lost  confidence  in  me 

Sower.  Lost  confidence  1  not  in  the  least, — I  never  had  any  ! 

Chir.  Well,  sir,  you'll  allow  me  to  give  you  a  month's  warning. 

Sower.  Certainly  not ;  go  to  the  kitchen — rob  me — ruin  me — but 
you  shall  never  leave  me  ! 

Chir.  A  month  to-day,  Sir,  if  you  please.     Your  servant,  Sir. 

[Exit  c.  D. 

Sower.  Part  with  that  woman,  never  I  Day  by  day  I'll  witness  the 
sublime  spectacle  of  truth  triumph  over  falsehood.  He  comes,  stu- 
pendous being  ! 

Enter  Butteecup,  k.  h.  in  a  coat  and  waistcoat  of  Sowekberky's 

But.  [r.]  Well  I  don't  think  much  of  this  coat  of  yourn. 

Sower,  [l.]  What,  can  so  great  a  mind  be  sullied  with  ingratitude  s 

But.  Oh,  gratitude's  nothing  to  do  with  it,  I'm  much  obliged  to  you 
for  the  coat  of  course,  only  if  I  said  I  liked  it  when  I  don't  it  wouldn't 
be  telling  the  the  truth  you  know. 

Soiver.  No,  no,  to  be  sure  !  Here,  give  me  that  coat  and  you  lake 
this. 

But.  Eh  !  oh,  oh  !  Well,  I've  got  the  best  of  the  two  at  any  rate 
Oh,  what  a  guy  ! 

Sower.  Why,  what's  the  matter  with  this  onel  It  fits  mo,  doesn't  it? 


12  A    PUEJtOMENON    IN    A    SMOCK    FBOCK. 

But.  Yes,  I  suppose  it  fits  as  well  as  anything  could  fit  such  a  hod- 
madod  of  a  figure. 

Sower.  Well  you  needn't  be  personal. 

But.  Good  lord !  here's  an  arm — all  skin  and  bone. 

Sower.  Mr.  Buttercup,  these  remarks  are,  to  say  the  least  uncalled 
for. 

But.  Why,  I  be  only  speaking  the  truth. 

Sower.  Enough,  sir ;  on  a  stand  in  my  room  you  will  find  a  wig  go 
and  fetch  it  me. 

But.  What,  you  wear  wigs  too,  do  you  1  Why  what  a  battered  old 
scarecrow  you  be — their  beant  nothing  real  about  ye. 

Sower.  Go,  sir.  It  is  a  now  one  just  come  home,  this  one  is  getting 
rather  shabby. 

But.  Well,  you  do  look  a  good  deal  like  a  mangey  old  badger.  I 
must  say.  [A  knock  is  heard  c. — Exit  r.  h. 

Soiver.  Confound  the  fellow,  he  needn't  be  insulting  if  he  does  speak 
the  truth. 

Enter  Betsey  Chikrup,  c. 

Chir.  Mrs.  Barker,  sir,  wishes  to  know  if  you  are  alone. 

Sower.  Eh  1  alone  !  show  her  in  directly —       {Exit  Chirrup,  c. 

Mrs.  Barker,  charming  creature.    Hang  it  I  wish  I  had  my  new  wig  on. 

Enter  Mrs.  Bakkeb,  c. 

Mrs.  B.  [l.]  Good  morning,  Mr.  Sowerberry,  you  will  I  hope  for- 
give the  liberty  I  have  taken 

Sower.  [r.J  Oh,  Mrs.  Barker,  the  honor  you  have  done  me.  \Aside.\ 
Lucky  dog,  that  Barker,  such  a  charming  little  wife. 

Mrs.  B.  You  will  think  it  strange  that  I  have  called  on  you,  a  sin- 
gle gentleman,  without  my  husband 

Sower.  On  the  contrary,  it  makes  the  favor  a  thousand  times  the 
greater.  [Aside.]  She's  very  pretty. 

Mrs.  B.  Mr.  Barker  has  I  believe  been  here  this  morning  1 

Sower.  He  has.     Pray  take  a  seat. 

Mrs.  B.  No  thank  you.  [  They  sit.]  He  asked  you  to  lend  him  some 
money. 

Sower.  Eh  1  [Aside.]  I  see,  she's  come,  thinking  she  can  coax  me 
out  of  it  better  than  he.  [Rises  and  walks  away,]  Bah  !  they're  all 
alike.  [Aloud.]  AVell,  he  did  hint  something  of  the  sort,  but  1  assure 
you 

Mrs.  B.  [Rises  and  follows  him.]  My  dear  Mr.  Sowerberryj  I  have 
come  to  beg,  to  entreat  you 

Sower.  [Aside.]  I  thought  so. 

Mrs.  B.  Not  to  let  him  have  it. 

Sower.  Eh  1  my  dear  madam,  pray  be  seated.  [Aside.]  She  is  posi- 
tively charming.  [They  sit. 

Mrs.  B.  You  promise  me  ! 

Sower.  Oh,  madam,  to  refuse  so  dear  a  friend  as  Mr.  Barker  so  tri- 
fling a  favor 

Mrs.  B.  Hear  rae,  sir,  my  husband  has  lately  taken  to  the  dreadful 
nabit  of 


A    PnEXEXIOXOX    IN    A    SMOCK    FROCK.  13 

Sovter.  Smoking  1 

3Irs.  B.  Worse,  sir,  of  betting  upon  horse-races.  Every  farthing  is 
sacrificed  to  this  horrid  passion — everything — his  wife,  his  liome  neg- 
lected, you  will  not  encourage  him  in  it  I  am  sure.  Promise  me  you 
will  not  let  him  have  this  money.  [Rises. 

Sower.  I  swear  it.     How  could  I  deny  anything  to  a  lady  so but 

have  the  kindness  to  sit  down. 

Mrs.  B.  Thank  you,  sir,  I  must  go.     If  my  husband  suspected 

Sower.  No,  do  not  leave  me  yet — let  me  a  little  longer  gaze  upon 
those  beauteous  features,  those  soft  and  melting  eyes  ! 

Mrs.  B.  Sir ! 

Sower.  [Aside.]  What  a  confounded  rascal  I  am — my  friend's  'vife ! 
[Aloud.]  Hah  !  Barker  is  a  happy  man — and  to  neglect  you  for  a  ulthy 
horse-race.     Were  I  the  possessor  of  such  charms 

Mrs.  B.  Really,  Mr.  Sowerberry 

Sower.  These  flowing  silken  tresses  !     Oh  !  had  1  such  hair  ! 

Mrs.  B.  [Laughing.]  Well,  come  you  needen't  complain — your  own 
hair's  very  good. 

Sower.  Yes,  madam,  nature  has  been  kind  to  me  in  that  respeo+. 
Enter  Buttercup  with  wig,  r.  u. 

But.  [r.]  Here  you  be. 

Sower,  [c.  Aside  to  him.]  Leave  the  room,  you  scoundrel. 

Mrs.  B.  [h.]  Why,  what  on  earth  is  that  1 

But.  Thisl     Mr.  Sowerberry's  wig. 

Sower.  Mine  ! — no  such  thing. 

But.  Get  out  with  ye — 'tis  yours. 

Sower.  'Tis  not. 

But.  It  is,  I  tell  ye. 

Sower.  [Aside  to  him.]  Will  you  hold  your  tongue  1 

But.  There  now,  he  tells  me  to  hold  my  tongue — that  shows  it's  his. 

Mrs.  B.  [Laughing.]  What,  Mr.  Sowerburry,  do  you  wear  a  wig "? 

Sower.  No,  no. 

But.  Yes,  yes.  [Takes  Sowerberry's  wig  off  and  runs  round  the 
stage,  with  Sowerberry  after  him.] 

Enter  Chirrup,  c,  hastily. 

Chir.  Oh,  sir.  here's  Mr.  Barker  coming  up  the  garden. 

Mi's.  B.  [to  Sowerberry.]  My  husband  !  If  he  finds  me  here,  I'm 
ruined. 

Sower.  Go,  Chirrup — say  I'm  out. 

But.  AVhat,  make  the  poor  thing  tell  a  lie — for  shamo  of  you  I 
[runs  to  c.  d.J  Here,  sir,  come  in — Mr.  Sowerberry  be  at  home. 

Sower.  The  devil ! 

3frs.  B.  What's  to  be  done  1 

Chir.  Here,  come — this  way.  You  can  go  out  by  the  garden-gate, 
quick.  Exeunt  l.  h.  p. 

Re-enter  Buttercup  with  Barker  c. 

But.  [r.]  The  idea  of  saying  you  were  out.  [Aside.\  Where  are 
they  gone  to  1 


14  A   PHENOMENON    IX    A    SMOCK    FROCK. 

Bar.  [l.]  You  were  engaged,  Sowerberry.     I  disturb  you  1 

Sower,  [c]  No,  not  at  all — 1  was  just  going  out. 

Bar.  I  won't  detain  you.  I  only  called  for  the  £50  you  promised 
me. 

Sower.  [Aside.]  And  I  have  pledged  my  word  not  to  lend  it. 
[Aloud.]  ]SIy  dear  friend,  I  am  truely  sorry  to  refuse  you,  but  on  look- 
ing over  my  banker's  book  I  find  it  is  impossible.  I  have  no  money 
at  all  that  I  can  lay  my  hands  on  just  at  present. 

But.  Don't  you  believe  him — he  has  got  money  only  he  won't  lend  it 

Bar.  Mr.  Sowerberry,  this  treatment  to  me,  sir 

Sower.  Will  you  leave  my  sight,  you  rascal  1  My  dear  Barker,  if 
I  had  the  money  I  should  be  delighted. 

Bui.  Oh  !  If  that's  all,  here  you  be.  Here's  his  pocket-book  I 
found  this  morning,  with  just  the  money  £50  inside. 

Sower.  [Aside.]  That  infernal  milkman  !  [Aloud.]  True  I  had  quite 
forgotten  that.     Here.  [Gives  money.]  [Aside.]  Devil  take  him  ! 

[Throws  pocket-book  at  Buttercl'p. 

Bar.  Thank  you. 

Sower.  Not  at  all.    Good  morning  ! 

Bar.  Goodbye!  [Seeing  parasol  which  Mrs.  Barker  has  left.] 
What  do  I  see  "?  Fire  and  fury  ! 

Sower.  AVhat's  the  matter  1 

Bar.  Speak  !  Whose  is  this  1 

Sower.  That  1  Oh  !  that's  a  parasol,  I  think — a  present  I've  just 
made  my  niece. 

Bui.  Don't  you  believe  him.  He  be  telling  lies  as  fast  as  he  can 
tell  them. 

Sower.  Leave  the  room,  sir  ! 

But.  How  be  I  to  earn  my  three  pounds  a  week  if  I  leave  the  room  1 
That  parasol  were  left  by  a  lady  with  a  yellow  bonnet  on. 

Bar.  A  yellow  bonnet  1 

Soiver.  No  such  thing  ! 

But.  Yes,  and  a  red  shawl. 

Bar.  Mr.  Sowerberry ! 

Sower.  My  dear  friend,  I  will  tell  you  everything. 

Bar.  No,  no — not  you.  [Crosses  to  3vtieb.c\jv.]  rbw  speak.  When 
was  the  lady  here  1 

'■     But.  This  minute.     They  were  having  a  nice  little  conversation  to- 
gether, till  you  came. 

Bar.  Confusion  !  Where  is  she  now  1 

Bui.  Well,  that  I  can't  say. 

Sower.  I  breathe  again  ! 

Chir.  {Half  opening  l.  h.  d.]  The  garden  gate  is  locked,  and  the 
key  in  the  kitchen.     If  I  could  but  get  it ! 

Bui.  [Seeing  door  open.]  Ha!  there  she  is — in  there! 

[Door  shuts  violently. 

Bar.  There  1  So!  Open  the  door,  whoever  you  are,  or  I  will  break 
it  open.  [Runs  io  door. 

Sower,  Mr,  Barker,  you  forget  you  are  in  my  house. 

[FoUowshim. 


A  PUENOMEXON  IN  A  SMOCK  FKOCK.  16 

Bar.  Your  house  or  not,  sir,  I  insist  on  knowing  who  that  lady  is. 
Open  the  door  I  say. 
Sower,  [to  Buttercup.]  Leave  my  house  this  instant. 
But.  Not  exactly,  you  took  me  on  a  lease  you  know. 
Sower.  Fool  that  I  was  !  Mr.  Barker,  let  me  assure  you— — 
Bar.  Silence,  she's  coming.     Now,  faithless  woman  ! 

The  door  l.  n.  opens  and  Betsey  CniRRUP  enters  in  Mrs.  Barker's 
bonnet  and  shawl — all  start. 

But.  [Aside.]  Lord,  how  she  be  grown. 

Chir.  Good  morning,  Mr.  Sowerberry. 

Soioer.  [Aside.]  Chirrup,  by  all  that's  clever  !  I'll  double  that  wo- 
man's wager.  [Aloud.]  Good  bye  my  dear — niece. 

Chir:  Good  morning,  my  dear  uncle.  Excuse  me,  sir,  that's  my 
parasol  you're  playing  with.  [Barker  gives  it  to  her.]  Thank  you. 
[Going  c]  And  now  to  fetch  the  key  and  set  my  captive  free,  by  the 
garden  gate.  [Exit  c.  d. 

Bar.  AVhat  an  extraordinary  coincidence  !  Parasol,  bonnet,  shawl, 
exactly  like  my  wife's  I  could  have  sworn  to  either  of  them. 

But.  [Aside  to  him.]  Here,  tell  ye  what  it  is,  that's  not  the  lady 
that  wor  here  just  now. 

Bar.  Nol 

But.  [Aside  to  Barker.]  Lor  bless  ye,  no,  the  other  wasn't  half  her 
size. 

Sower.  What's  that  infernal  fellow  saying  now — Mr.  Barker,  are 
you  satisfied  1 

Bar.  Quite  my  dear  friend,  you'll  pardon  my  folly,  I  am  sure.  [Aside 
to  Buttercup.]  Meet  mc  here  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  I'll  give 
vou  a  sovereign. 

Cut.  Eh,  what  for  1 

Bar.  For  telling  me  the  truth. 

But.  All  right.    I'd  no  idea  telling  truth  was  so  good  a  trade. 
Sower.  Mr.  Barker,  when  you've  done  conversing  with  my  ser- 
vant  

Bar.  All  right !  Come,  say  that'you  forgive  me  the  idea  of  being 
jealous  of  so  excellent  a  friend.  Good  morning  !  [Aside  to  Butter- 
cup.] In  a  quarter-of-an-hour,  recollect. 

But.  Yes,  I'll  be  here.  [Exit  Barker  c. 

Sower.  [Seizing  Buttercup,  and  bringing  him  forward.]  No'sr 
leave  my  house. 

But.  Not  till  the  seven  years  be  up. 

Sower.  Good  heavens  !     Leave  the  room  then. 

But.  Well,  I  don't  mind  doing  that, — your  company  bean't  over 
pleasing.  Send  for  I  when  you've  any  more  falsehoods  to  be  rooted 
up.     I  say,  I  do  my  work  pretty  bobbish,  don't  1 1  [Exit  c. 

Sower.  AVliat's  to  be  done "?  Must  I  endure  this  fellow  for  seven 
years  ?  No,  not  for  seven  minutes  !  But  how  to  get  rid  of  him  !  And 
tills  is  the  man  I  was  so  proud  to  meet  with — this  is  the  truth  I  was  so 
anxious  to  hear  on  all  occasions!  What's  to  be  donel  Ah!  a  mag- 
nificent conception — a  grand  Satanic,  diabolical  idea  I     Oh,  if  I  had 


16  A  PHENOMENON  IN  A  SMOCK  FROCK. 

but  some  instrument  to  work  out  my  terrible  invention  !     Mrs.  Chir- 
rup ! — tlie  very  woman  1 

Enier  Chirrup,  c. 

Chir.  [l.]  All  is  safe,  sir.  I  returned  her  parasol,  shawl,  bonnet, 
everything — let  her  out  by  the  garden  gate.  She'd  be  home  some  min- 
utes before  her  husband. 

Sower,  [r.]  Mrs.  Chirrup,  you  are  a  genius.  Look  at  me.  don't  I 
look  diabolical  1 

Chir.  Well,  yes  sir,  much  as  usual.     Why  1 

Sower.  Listen — I  have  a  task  for  you  that  will  eclipse  all  you  have 
ever  done. 

Chir.  For  me,  sir. 

Sower.  Yes,  you  are  the  very  being  I  require.  A  pretty  face,  a  win- 
ning manner,  but  the  cunning  of  a  demon  ! — don't  interrupt  ms.  To 
you,  I  say,  will  I  entrust  the  working  out  of  my  horrible  design. 

Chir.  Oh,  sir,  you  terrify  me  ! 

Sower.  I  know  I  do,  I  terrify  myself.  Listen — you  have  observed 
this  Buttercup "? 

Chir.  Observed  him,  yes. 

Sower.  He  is  the  bane  of  my  existence.  He  haunts  mc  like  a  bottle 
imp,  I  cannot  shake  him  off.  His  dreadful  way  of  speaking  truth  will 
kill  me — you  must — you  must  in  short  cure  him  of  that  habit — mako 
him  a  clever,  accomplished,  lying,  dishonest  villain  like  yourself. 

Chir.  Really,  sir 

Sower.  Don't  speak,  hear  me.  If  j'ou  do  this,  I'll  give  you  money — 
lots  of  money — enough  to  set  you  up  in  business  in  some  nice  little 
swindling  concern. 

Chir.  Oh,  sir,  you're  very  good ! 

Sower.  I'm  not  good, — I  feel  I'm  a  perfect  demon.  But  will  you 
do  itl 

Chir.  Well,  sir,  I'll  try. 

Sower.  Enough.  Once  make  a  liar  of  him,  and  name  your  own  re- 
ward. [Exit  L.  H.  D. 

Chir.  Well,  that's  a  curious  task,  at  any  rate, — to  make  a  man  tell 
falsehoods.  It  won't  be  difScult.  I  should  say.  I  never  knew  a  man 
yet,  that  talked  five  minutes  with  a  woman  without  telling  dozens. 

Enter  Buttercup  c. 
— Good — here  he  comes.     Now  for  it. 

But.  [l.]  There  she  be.  What  a  splendid  creature  she  is,  to  be  sure ! 
It's  astonishing  how  fond  I  be  of  that  girl.  How  my  heart  always  beat 
when  I  cried  "  Miaou"  twice  a  day  at  this  door  !  Now,  if  it  wasn't 
that  she's  so  given  to  falsehood  and  swindling,  I'm  blest  if  I  wouldn't — 

Chir.  [n.]  Ah!  my  dear  Mr.  Buttercup! 

Bui.  [Aside.]  Dear  Mr.  Buttercup  !  [Aloud.]  Bean't  dinner  nearly, 
Mrs.  Chirrup  ! 

Chir.  Not  yet,  my  dear  sir.     You  are  hungry  1 

But.  Yes,  i  be.     Where  shall  I  find  the  bread  and  cheese? 

Chir  Let  me  get  you  a  sandwich,  and  a  glass  of  wine. 


I 


A   PUENOMEJfON    IN'    A    SMOCK    FKOCK.  IT 

But.  No  thank  ye,  Mrs.  Chirrup.  A  bit  of  bre.irl  and  cheese  will 
do  till  dinner-time. 

Chir.  Now  do  allow  me,  there's  a  dear  creature  ! 

But.  Upon  my  life,  Mrs.  Chirrup,  you  be  a  remarkably  nice  young 
woman.  Ah  !  it's  a  thousand  pitties  you  bean't  a  little  more  particu- 
lar like. 

Chir.  Ah  !  my  dear  Mr.  Buttercup,  you  allude  to  what  occured  this 
morning.  It  was  wrong  of  me,  I  know.  But  what  can  I  do  1  I  must 
provide  for  a  rainy  day. 

But.  Yes,  but  you've  no  right  to  make  my  master  pay  for  the  um- 
brella. 

Chir.  Ah  •  'tis  easy  for  you  men  to  be  honest  I  but  for  us  poor  un- 
protected females Oh,  if  I  had  but  anyone  to  love  me!     But  no,  I 

must  die  as  I  have  lived — a  spinster — with  none  to  care  for  me,  or 
weep  when  I  am  gone ! 

But.  Pooh  ! — you  mustn't  talk  like  that — a  fine  young  woman  like 
y-'u. 

Giiir.  Oh  !  Mr.  Buttercup,  do  you  think  me  a  fine  woman  1 

But.  Why,  of  course.  Oh  !  you'll  have  plenty  of  sweet-hearts  never 
fear. 

Chir.  Sweethearts'!  I'm  sick  of  sweethearts.  There  is  but  one  man 
I  have  ever  seen  who Excuse  me,  Mr.  Buttercup ! 

But.  [Aside.]  Why,  I  do  believe  she  be  in  love  with  I.  Upon  my 
life  I  wish  she  was  ! 

Chir.  Oh!  my  dear  sir,  your  kindness  overpowers  me. 

[Leans  her  head  on  his  shoulder,  crying. 

But.  No,  no — don't  ye  cry.  Come,  come.  [Kisses  her.]  Ah  I  'poii 
my  life  that's  riice. 

Chir.  Oh  Mr.  Buttercup !  [Aside.]  He's  yielding! 

But.  There — don't  ye  be  oITended. 

Chir.  OfTended  with  you  1     Impossible! 

But.  Eh  1  We'll  try  again,  then.  [Kisses  her.]  Oh  !  Mrs.  Chirrup 
if  I  might  tell  you 

Chir.  Tell  nie  !     What? 

But.  [After  a  struggle.]  No,  no.  Wliere  did  you  say  the  bread  and 
cheese  was  ? 

Chir.  [Aside.]  Ah !  I  must  try  another  tack.  [Aloud.]  Hark ! 
wasn't  that  a  whistle  1 

But.  Eh  1     I  didn't  hear  it. 

Cher.  There  again,  I  must  go. 

But.  Gol     Where'? 

Chir.  Oh,  sir,  I  know  you'll  not  betray  me — 'tis  a  lover. 

But.  A  lover  ]  Why  I  thought  you  said  there  wasn't  any  one  you 
cared  for '? 

Chir.  No,  I  don't  care  for  him,  but  what  can  I  do  !     He's  an  excel- 
lent young  man,  has  a  beautiful  green-grocery  business! 
But.  Damn  his  green-grocery  business. 

Chir.  And  he  lias  ottered  me  marriage. 

But.  llel     Never!  I  otter  vou  marriage.  [Kneels. 

Chir.  Youl     Oh.  no! 


18  A  rUENOMESON  IN  A  SMOCK  FROCK. 

Bui.  Why  not  1 

Chir.  Oh,  no!  You  are  too  shnple,  too  innocent,  too  honest — my 
husband  must  be  crafty  cunning. 

But.  I'll  be  cunning — I'll  be  crafty. 

Chir.  Must  flatter. 

But.  I'll  flatter. 

Chir.  Must  not  be  too  particular  about  the  truth. 

But.  I  won't  be  particular — that  is — what  am  I  at  1  Tell  me  why 
do  you  object  to  a  husband  that  speaks  the  truth  "? 

Chir.  Why  !     Oh,  sir,  you  tell  me  now  I'm  beautiful. 

But.  Well  there's  no  lie  about  that. 

Chir.  But  when  I  grow  old  and  ugly,  think  you  I  could  endure  a  hus- 
band who  told  me  I  was  so  1 

But.  I  wouldn't  tell  ye. 

Cliir.  Then  you'd  no  longer  speak  the  truth. 

But.  Deuce  take  it,  no. 

Chir.  And  after  all,  what  is  a  little  falsehood,  when  it  does  harm  to 
no  one — wlien  on  the  contrary,  it  makes  people  happy  1 

But.  You're  right,  what  is  it — that  is — no,  no,  where  did  you  say 
the  bread  and  cheese  was  kept  ? 

Chir.  Come,  I'll  show  you. 

But.  No,  let  me  go  alone.     If  you  come,  I  shall 

Cliir.  That  poor  green-grocer  ! 

But.  Damn  the  green-grocer  !     Come.     Oh  lord,  oh  lord  '. 

[Exeunt  c. 

Enter  Sowerbekry  e.  h.  d. 
Sower.  I  cannot  rest  until  I  know  how  my  infamous  project  thrives. 
Why  am  I  not  the  hero  of  a  melodrama  1     I  feel  I  ought  never  to  en- 
ter a  room  without  blue  fire  and  mysterious  music.     And  I  that  railed 
at  falsehood  so  !     Ila,  ha,  ha  !     My  very  laugh  reminds  ma  of  0.  Smith. 

Enter  Chirrup  c. 

— Say,  Mrs.  Chirrup,  what  success  ] 

Chir.  [l.]  Success  indeed !     The  fellow's  as  obstinate  as  a  mule. 
But  here's  a  note  from  Mrs.  Braker. 

Soiver.  [r.J  From  Mrs.  Barker  1  Charming  creature!  Ehl  [Reads.] 
"We  are  lost."  Lost!  Who's  lost  ? — what's  lost "?  "  Aly  husband  in- 
sits  on  my  accompanying  him  to  your  house.  He  has  bribed  your 
servant" — Eh  1  Oh,  that  infernal  13uttercup  ! — "bribed  your  servant 
to  tell  him  whetlier  'twas  I  who  was  concealed  in  your  house  this  mor- 
ing."  Good  heavens!  "Postscript. — Save  me — save  yourself !  My 
husband  is  now  loading  his  pistols." 

Chir.  You'll  be  murdered. 

Sower.  I  shall: — a  martyr  to  the  truth.  And  you  can't  get  this 
idiot 

Chir.  So  tell  a  falsehood.  Sir — impossible  ! 

Sower.  AVhat's  to  be  donel  Oh!  here  he  is.  If  I  could  but  get 
him  out  of  the  way  ! 

Enter  Bi-ttkrcup  c,  eating  a  large  piece  of  bread  and  cheese. 


A    PIIENOMEXOX    IN    A    SMOCK    FROCK.  19 

Sower.  Ha,  my  dear  friend  !  Having  your  lunch,  I  see.  That's 
right ! 

But.  Yes — -just  a  little  mouthful  till  dinner's  ready. 

Soiver.  [Aside.]  I  wish  it  would  choke  him.  [Aloud.]  My  excellent 
friend,  will  you  go  a  short  errand  for  me  1 

But.  I  can't  just  now,  I've  got  to  meet  that  gent  as  was  here  this 
aiorning. 

Sower.  [Aside.]  He  dosen't  even  disguise  it.  [Aloud.]  Nevermind 
him.  [Knock  heard,  c. 

But.  I  never  break  my  word. 

Chir.  [At  window.]  Sir,  sir,  they're  here. 

Sower.  Who? 

Cliir.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barker. 

Sower.  Don't  let  them  in. 

But.  Not  let  'em  in  1  How  can  I  keep  my  promise  and  meet  the 
man  if  you  don't?     Here,  I'll  let  them  in. 

Sower.  Stop,  fellow  ! 

But.  Be  ofi'with  ye  !  [Runs  out,  c. 

Chir.  It's  all  over  with  you,  sir. 

Re-enter  Bctteecup,  with  Mn.  a7id  Mks.  Barker,  c. 

Bar.  jNIr.  Sowerberry,  you  deceived  me  this  morning,  but  now,  sir, 
I  will  know  the  truth. 

Sower.  "Sir.  Barker  !  [Goes  vp  r.  and  sits  at  table. 

Bar.  Enough  sir.     Now  my  fine  fellow,  just  come  here. 

Mrs.  B.  [l.]  You  will  not  take  that  man's  word  in  preference  to 
mine "? 

Bar.  [h.  c]  Silence,  madam! 

Sower.  [Aside.]  And  he  has  loaded  pistols  in  his  pocket ! 

Bar.  Now  then,  my  friend,  look  at  this  lady. 

But.  Yes,  I  see  her,  there  bean't  much  of  her. 

Chir  [Aside  to  Sov,-ERBERnY]yfh\stle,  Sir. 

Sower.     [Aside  to  her]  Whistlel     What  fori 

Bar.  Well,  and  she  is 

Chir.  [Aside  to  Sowerberry.]  AVhistle,  for  mercy's  sake  ! 

[Solver  whistles. 

But.  Oh  lord  ! — there's  that  infernal  green-grocor  again  ! 

Chir.  [Aside,  to  Buttercup.]  If  you  expose  that  lady,  I'll  marry 
liim  to-morrow. 

But.  To-morrow  1  No  you  wouldn't  ? 

Bar.  AVell,  isi-,  this  lady  is  the  one  you  saw  this  morning  in  this 
house.     Am  I  not  right. 

But.  Why,  the  fact  is 

Chir.  [Aside  to  Sowerberry.]  Whistle  again. 

[Sower  whistles. 

But.  [Aside.]  Confound  him!  [Aloud.]  Ehl  No,  that  bean't  the 
lady. 

Bar   Nol 

But.  No — the  one  I  saw  was  as  tall  as  this,  and  as  broad  as  this. 

[Tn  action. 


20  A  PHENOMENON  IN  A  SMOCK  FROCK 

Bar.  You  deceived  me,  then,  this  morning"? 

But.  Yes,  yes.     She's  not  a  bit  like  t'other  one. 

Sower.  [Aside.]  How  beautifully  he  does  it,  now  he's  once  begun  ! 

Bar.  Sowciberry,  I  ask  your  pardon.  Mrs.  B.,  my  dear,  forgive 
me.     [They  embrace.]  As  to  you,  sii 

But.  'Twasn't  me — indeed  it  wasn't. 

Sower.  \_Aside.]  It  wasn't  he  !  Good  !  that  makes  two  ! 

But.  [To  Chikkuf.]  There,  now,  be  you  satisfied  7 

Chir.  Quite.  [Gives  her  hand.]  Go  on  as  you've  begun,  and  you'll 
be  perfect. 

But.  No,  shall  1 1   What !  be  lies  better  than  the  truth? 

Sower.  Certainly  not.  Truth  is  the  broad  straight  line  of  railway 
upon  which  the  engine  of  Society  must  run.  Innocent  flattery  and 
pleasant  fiction  serve  as  oil  to  make  the  wheels  run  easy.  "Without 
the  first,  we  should  be  driven  nobody  knows  where :  without  the  se- 
cond, the  hard  iron,  truth,  would  shake  Society  all  to  pieces. 

But.  Mayhap  you  be  right;  I  don't  understand  you,  though. — 
Come,  Mrs.  Chirrup. 

Sower.  Stop.  Before  you  go,  just  say  a  word  for  us  here;  they'll 
believe  what  you  say,  you  know. 

But.  Eh  ]  Very  good,  [to  Audience.]  Here;  I  be  to  speak  to  you 
about  this  little  p!aj'.  AVell,  how  about  if?  For  my  own  part  I  think 
it  is  about  the  worst  piece  I  ever  see,  and  I  told  the  chap  as  writ  it, 
but  he  thinks  himself  so  damn  clever 

Sower.  Eh  1  That  won't  do.     He'll  ruin  everything. 

Chir.  Whistle,  sir.  "  [Sower  whistles. 

But.  Ugh! — he's  there  again!  [Looks  round.]  What  be  I  to  say"? 
That  it's  good  1  [All  nod.]  Oh,  very  well !  [to  Audience.]  Now,  I  as- 
sure you  this  little  piece  is  the  finest  ever  written — the  acting  first- 
rate — and  altogether 

Sower.  Lord,  what  crammers  he  does  tell ! 

But.  Well,  what  be  I  to  say  1  Here,  I  shan't  say  nothing  more  about 
it — I'll  leave  it  to  these  gentlefolks  here.  They'il  toll  you  the  truth, 
never  fear.  Now,  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  tell  us  the  truth — don't  be 
frightened — if  you  like  us,  say  so;  and  if  you  don't,  why,  just  imitate 
our  example,  and  give  us  a  little  innocent  flattery. 

SOWERBERRY.      CHIRRUP.       BUTTERCUP.      MRS.     BARKER.      BARKER. 
B. 


F  R  E  N  G 


S      rVj  \  U  OR     DRAM  A, 

NO.   CXCIII. 


NUMBER     ONE, 


A  FAKCE,  IK  ONE  ACT, 


BY    W  I  L  L  I  A  M      B  R  0  IT  G  H, 

A.^-TH0R  OF  "apaktmexts,"  "a  house  out  of  windows,"  "a  puexojie- 

NGN    IN    A  SMOCK  FKOCK,"    "TRYING  IT  ON,"     "HOW  TO    MAKE    HOME 
HAPPY,"    "those  DEAR  BLACKS,"    "THE  CHAMEUON,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


TO   WniCH   AKE   ADDKD 


A  description  of  the  Costumes— Cast  of  tlic  Characters — Entrances  and  Exits- 
Relative  Positions  of  the  Performers  on  the  Stage,  and 
the  whole  of  the  Stage  Business. 


AS   PERFOEMED   AT  THE   PRINCIPAL  ENGLISH   AND 
AMERICAN    THEATRES. 


NEW    YORK: 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  PUBLISHER, 

122  Nass.vu  Street,  (Up  Stair?) 


NUMBER  ONE,  HOUND  THE  CORNER. 


'  London  Lyceum,  Boston  Museum- 

1834.  1854. 

Flipper. . . , Mr.  C.  Mathews.  Mr.  E.  F.  Keach. 

Nobbier "    E.  Eoxby.  "     W.  Warren. 

Second  Floor  Lodger " "     George. 

Jim "    H.  S.  Bascoh. 


COSTTJIvlES. 

Flipper. — 1st.  Dressing  gown,  Hgbt  trowsers,  blue  cap,  and  slip- 
pers.    2d.  Alpacca  coat,  drab  waistcoat,  light  neck-tie,  and  hat. 

Nobbler. — Dark  trowsers,  light  waistcoat  and  neck-tie,  and  figured 
shirt.     In  his  shirt  sleeves  all  through. 

Second  Floor  Lodger. — Old-fashioned  brown  coat,  black  breeches, 
and  stockings  ;  white  neck-cloth,  and  broad-brimmed  hat ;  slippers. 


Scene  1. — Plain  doors  r.  and  l.  c.  3  g.     Window  used  r.  c.     Fire- 
place and  fire. 


3?ROI>E;iiTIJE;S. 

Table  covered  and  supper  for  two  ;  not  eaten.  Two  chairs  r.  h. 
Two  chairs  l.  ii.  Meershaum,  silver  mounted,  and  filled  with 
tobacco,  for  Nobbier.  Pair  of  new  patent  leather  boots  for  Flipper, 
and  a  newspaper.  Coat  without  buttons,  for  Jem,  c.  d.  f.  Black 
coat  for  Second  Floor  Lodger.  Pair  of  top  boots  for  Nobbier.  Five 
pieces  of  money  for  Flipper.  Pair  of  old  boots  by  fire-place,  R.  h. 
See  bill  on  table.  Basket  of  cotton  wool  behind  window  to  catch 
pipe. 


lime  of  performance,  29  minutes. 


NUMBEE  OjN^E,  EOUND  THE  COENEE. 


ScENi;. — A  room  in  a  lodging-house  moderately  wcU  famished.     Doors  E.  l., 
and  L.  c.      Window  k.  c.     Fire  burniny.     Breakfast  laid  for  two. 

Enter  Flipper  r.  n. 

Flip.  Eleven  o'clock  actually,  and  my  uncle  was  to  have  break- 
fasted with  me  at  ten.  Egad  it's  hicJvy  he  overslept  himself  as  well 
as  I,  or  I  should  never  have  heard  the  end  of  it.  'Phe  old  hoy  is  so 
tremendously  particular  about  people  being  punctual.  But  hang  it, 
I've  no  reason  to  complain  of  his  punctuality,  seeing  that  his  habit- 
ual regularity  extends  to  the  quarterly  allowance  I  receive  from  hiui. 
Once  every  three  months  he  comes  up  to  London,  and  as  sure  as 
quarter-day  comes  roimd,  so  sure  is  he  to  breakfast  with  me,  and 
leave  upon  the  t;ible  before  he  goes  a  nice  little  roll  of  £5  notes.  I 
saw  him  yesterday,  and  he  arranged  to  breakfast  here  to-day,  as 
usual,  and  of  course,  as  usual,  he  will  bring  a  fresh  roll  with  him  for 
his  breakfast. 

Nobbier.   [Outmle'\  Jim — brush  this  coat  dii'ectly. 

Jim.  [Outside]  Throw  it  down.  Sir. 

Nob.   [Outside']  Here  you  are. 

Flip.  There's  that  infernal  fellow  in  the  next  room  again.  What 
a  row  he  makes.  What  with  his  cough  at  nights,  and  his  bawling  to 
the  servants  all  day,  I  never  have  a  moment's  quiet. 

Jim.   [Outnide]  Missus  says  you  cant  go  out.  Sir. 

2nd  Floor  Lodger.   What  do  you  mean,  you  young  scoundrel  ? 

Jim.  Not  till  you've  paid  your  bill.  Sir. 

Flip.  There's  the  second  floor  at  it  now.  That  fellow's  forever 
quarreling  with  his  landlady.  Who  would  live  in  a  lodging  house — 
nothing  but  rows  from  morning  till  night. 

Lodg.   [Outside]  But  I  tell  you  I've  no  money  till  I  do  go  out. 

Flip.  Poor  devil !  He's  got  no  uncle  to  bring  him  rolls  for  break- 
fast. [A  knock  at  door  c]  Hah  !  Here  he  is  at  last.  [Runs  to  door  ami 
opens  it.]  My  dear  uncle — Eh!  What's  that? 

Jim.   [Outride]  A  letter  for  you,  Sir. 

Flip.  A  letter  1  Jly  uncle's  writing.  [Opens  it  and  rc'tdit.] — "  My  dear 
boy.  Having  been  unexpectedly  compelled  to  leave  London  and  re- 
turn home  to  night,  I  shall  not  be  able  to  keep  my  appointment  to 


4  KLIIBER   ONE,    HOUND    THE   CORNER. 

breakfast  v/itli  you  h\  the  morning."  The  devil !  "  As  it  is  now  too 
late  for  the  Bank,  I  cannot  enclose  your  usual  quarterly  allowance. 
I  will  send  you  a  check  for  it  as  soon  as  I  get  home."  Confound  it  ! 
I  slmnt  get  it  till  the  day  after  to-morrow.  "  By  the  bye,  I  have  left 
my  best  coat  at  a  tailor's  to  be  repaired,  and  have  ordered  him  to 
send  it  to  your  place.  Forward  it  to  me  directly  you  receive  it. 
Mind,  I  have  paid  him  for  it."  Well,  come,  that's  forttiuate,  at  any 
rate,  for  if  it  had  been  left  for  me  to  pay — [Feels  in  fm  pockets] — five 
shillings  !  All  I've  got  for  to  last  me  for  two  days.  What  am  I  talk- 
ing about  ?  Two  days !  If  I  had  biit  enough  to  carry  me  over  the  next 
two  hours,  I  should  be  satisfied.  What  the  deuce  shall  I  do  ?  It's  al- 
ready past  eleven,  and  before  one  it's  absolutely  necessary  I  should 
have  £20.  Egad,  £20  won't  do.  That's  only  what  I've  got  to  pay 
in  one  lump  ;  in  addition  to  that  I  must  get  the  money  for  the  irew 
boots  I  have  ordered,  and  which  I  am  expecting  every  minute.  They 
mi'st  be  paid  for.  I  can't  go  in  these,  [Shows  a  vcnj  shabby  pair  ;]  who'd 
give  a  situation  of  £5  a  week  to  a  man  with  boots  of  tins  sort  ?  No 
one,  of  course.  While  things  are  on  their  present  ragged  footing,  my 
boots  would  frighten  any  one  a^way  ;  and  yet  I  only  want  a  decent 
pair  of  boots  to  walk  into  a  sii^ation  of  £5  a  week.  Here  it  is  in 
black  and  white  [l\ikes  out  7iewspaper  from  his  jxcket  and  rcack] — "To  re- 
spectable young  men  in  want  of  employment."  There  it  says  "re- 
spectable." No  one  would  venture  to  call  these  respectable,  I  fancy. 
•'  Wanted  a  Secretary  to  a  newly-established  Joint  Stock  Society. 
Salary  £5  per  week.  Apply  to  X.  Y.  Z.  Bubble  Coffee-House,  Old 
Change."  1  did  apply  to  X.  Y.  Z.  He  answered  me,  and  said  he 
had  no  doubt  that  I  should  answer  too.  And  I  am  to  meet  him  to- 
day at  one  o'clock  to  settle  it.  Settle  it,  indeed  !  These  boots  would 
pretty  soon  do  that  for  me.  Then  I  was  to  deposit  ,£20  security.  And 
so  I  coiild  have  done  if  I  had  got  my  uncle's  usual  allowance.  How- 
ever, I  might  perhaps  get  over  that  difticulty,  and  prevail  upon  the 
worthy  X.  Y.Z.  to  wait  a  day  or  tv/o  ;  but  tlie  bootmaker,  I  know, 
will  be  inexorable.  And  as  I  said  before,  unless  I  get  the  pair  I've 
ordered — [A  knock  ai  the  door'] — Who's  there  ? 

Jim.   [Outside]  A  pair  of  boots  for  you,  Sir. 

Flip.  Quite  right,  Jim,  bring  them  in. 

Jiin.  I  havn't  got  them.  Sir  ;  the  man  says  there  a  pound. 

Flip.  Oh,  he  says  there  a  pound,  does  he  '(  And  as  I  suspected,  he  . 
has  impounded  them  until  I  pay. 

Jim.  He  says  he'll  wait  for  the  money. 

Fli2).  Of  course  he  will.  People  always  make  their  bootmakers 
wait  for  their  money.     Tell  him  I'll  send  it  round  to-morrow. 

Jim.  Please,  Sir,  he  says  he  won't  go  way  until  you  pay. 

Flip.  Poor  devil !  How  tired  he  will  be  !  You'd  better  ask  him  to 
set  down. 

Jim.  Yes, Sir. 

Flip.  Now  isn't  this  tantalizing  ?  Tantalizing  !  — it's  a  perfect  tor- 
ture— a  torture  of  the  boot.  There  they  are — boots  and  situation — 
both  only  waiting  for  me  to  step  into  them  ;  and  I  shall  lose  both 
for  the  want  of  a  paltry  20  shillings.  I  wonder  whether  I  have  any- 
thing I  could  raise  a  pound  upon.     There's  a  pawnbroker's  at  No.  1, 


NUMBER   ONE,    ROUND    THE   CORNER.  5 

round  the  comer.  If  I  could  only  find  Bomething  I  should  not  want 
for  a  day  or  two.     Let's  see.  [Exit  u.dom: 

Noh.   [OMteif/c]  Now,  Jim,  are  you  coming  with  that  coat  ? 

Jim.   [OuUide.^  Yes  Sir. 

Lodg.  [Outside'\  But,  Mrs.  Grampus,  I  can't  pay  you  if  I  haven't 
got  the  money. 

Jim.  [O^ming  door  c]  Here's  your  coat.  Sir.  \_Puts  it  on  a  chair  near 
tlie  dooi'.^ 

Flip.  [lie-entering  n.  D.]  No,  not  a  thing  !  Everything  I  could  spare 
has  gone  to  No.  1  round  the  corner  already.  Everything  always  does 
before  the  quarter's  up.  [Sees  coat.]  What's  that  '.''—my  uncle's  coat 
come  home,  and  I  never  noticed  it !  The  very  thing  !  It  will  only  be 
for  a  day  or  two.  Fortunately  my  room  opens  on  to  the  back  stair- 
case— I  can  slip  out  unobserved — and  j-ct  my  uncle  told  me  to  send 
his  coat  to  him  directly  it  arrived.  Well,  I  obey.  I  won't  send  it 
to  my  uncle's.  I'll  do  better — I'll  take  it  myself  to  my  imcle's  at 
No.  1  round  the  corner.  [Exit  l.  door. 

JVob.  [Outside.]  In  there  ?  Why,  young  idiot,  don't  you  know  my 
coat  yet.?  There,  go  about  your  business — I'll  fetch  it.  [Knccks.]  I 
beg  your  pardon.  [Enters  ivith  meerschaum  pipe  in  his  vMittli.']  I  beg  your 
pardon.  Sir  ;  but  have  you  seen — What !  No  one  here  ?  [Goes  to  door 
ii.]  I  beg  your  pardon,  Sir — but  have  you  seen  a  bright  blue  coat 
with  gilt  buttons  ?  No  reply  ! — perhaps  he's  deaf.  [Knocks and  \shouis.] 
Hi!  Sir,  have  you  seen  a  bright  blue  coat  with  gilt  buttons?  It's 
very  odd  !  [Opens  door.]  He's  not  here  either  !  [Looks  round.]  Now 
where  the  deuce  has  that  fool  of  a  boy  put  it?  It's  no  use — I  must 
have  it.  It's  not  polite,  I  know,  to  intrude  into  other  gentlemen's 
bediooms  ;  but,  when  it's  a  question  of  bright  blue  coats  with  gilt 
buttons,  it's  no  use  standing  upon  ceremony.  Here  goes  ! — it  must 
be  in  here.  '  [Fiitspipe  mi  manllepiece,  and  exit,  D.  K.] 

Flip.  [Entering  l.  ii.]  Confound  the  fellow !  I've  heard  of  many 
cruel  uncles,  but  I  don't  believe  thereover  was — even  including  the 
one  in  the  Babes  in  the  Wood — so  hard-hearted  a  relation  as  that  one 
of  mine,  at  No.  1  roimd  the  corner.  With  all  T  could  say,  he  would 
not  lend  a  farthing  more  than  ten  shillings  on  that  coat.  That  makes 
only  fifteen  shillings  towards  the  twenty — and  the  boot-maker  wait- 
ing in  the  passage!  What's  to  be  done  !  If  I  could  only  get  him  to 
allow  me  something  for  the  old  ones — they're  not  worth  miich — but 
perhaps  he  might,  as  I  am  a  customer — or  at  least  intend  to  be.  The 
idea!  onlj'  ten  shillings  on  my  uncle's  best  coat !  [Throws pawnbroker' i 
ticket  indignantly  on  tl:e  taLle,  and  exit  L.  c.  door. 

Noh.  [Enters,  r.]  No,  there's  no  bright  blue  coat  with  gilt  buttons 
there.  Oh,  if  I  don't  serve  out  that  young  rascal,  Jim  !  Here's  an- 
other room  over  here  ;  perhaps  he's  taken  it  in  there.  [Exit  l. 

Flip.  [Enters  c,  with  a  pair  of  piitmt  leather  loots.]  Victory,  I've  done 
it.  After  no  end  of  persuasions  and  promises  of  future  patronage,  I 
have  induced  the  boot-maker  to  take  the  fifteen  shillings  and  the  old 
boots  in  full  discharge  of  his  bill.  There,  these  are  something  like 
a  pair  of  boots  !  I'll  just  brush  up  myself  a  little,  and  then  start  ofif 
to  my  appointment.  [Puts  boots  on  a  chair  near  the  fire  and  exits,  R. 

Nob..   [En'cringi..]  No;  that's  nothing  but  a  passage  leading  to  the 


H  NUMBER    ONE,    ROUXD   TIIK    CORKER. 

biick  staircase.  There's  no  bright  blue  coat  with  gilt  buttons  there. 
Oil,  Lord  !  how  chilly  I  am,  standing  all  this  while  without  it ;  and 
I  that  have  had  such  a  cold  for  the  last  fortnight !  [Sneezes]  Talking 
of  that,  who  the  deuce  could  it  have  been  that  put  that  basin  of  gruel 
and  spirits  of  nitre  at  my  door  every  night?  I've  questioned  Jim 
about  it — he  does'nt  know  ;  and  Mrs.  Grampus — she  won't  tell. 
Who  on  earth  is  it  that  takes  such  a  tender  interest  in  my  health  ? 
It  can't  be  the  old  lady  herself  that  has  fallen  in  love  with  me — no, 
that's  impossible  !  La,ndladies  never  fall  in  love  with  lodgers  that 
don't  pay  !  No  ;  it  must  be  some  gentle  creature — some  guardian 
angel  watching  over  me.  And  yet  I  didn't  know  we  had  any  female 
lodgers  in  the  house.  [Sneezes.']  Oh,  Lord  !  I  wish  I  could  find  my 
coat  1  How  cold  it  is  !  How, I  am  to  keep  my  appointment  with  the 
Bubble  Cofl'ee-house  to-day  I  don't  know  !  I  can't  goto  meet  a  young 
man  to  whom  I've  promised  £5  a  week  in  my  shirt  sleeves,  it  isn't 
likely  !  What  a  capital  ideathat  wasof  mine  !  I  advertised-  -"  Want- 
ed, a  Secretary  to  a  newly  established  Joint  Stock  Society.  Salary, 
£5  a  week.  Apply  to  X.  Y.  Z."  Ha,  ha  !  I  offer  £5  a  week  !  I  that 
hav'nt  five  shilling  in  the  world  !  However,  one  fiat  nibbled  at  the 
bait,  and  did  apply  to  "X.  Y.  Z."  signing  himself  "A.  B.  C.  ;"  I 
replied,  informing  him  that  if  he  was  prepared  to  deposit  £20  security 
[a  very  small  sum,  considering  the  salary — I  might  as  well  have  made 
it  £50]  ;J  would  meet  him  to  settle  it  at  one  o'clock  to-day.  And 
now  I'm  to  be  swindled  out  of  that  £20,  which  I  had  already  looked 
upon  as  in  my  own  pocket,  just  because  I  can't  find  a  coat  to  go  in. 
HaT)g  it  1  It  must  be  somewhere  about  here!  [Seeslickel  on  table]  What's 
this?  A  pawn  ticket  ?  [Fea.ds]  "  A  bright  blue  coat  with  gilt  buttons." 
Good  Heavens  !  No  wonder  I  couldn't  find  it  1  Pawned,  actually! 
Popped  as  if  it  wore  a  weazel  !  Popped  at  No.  1  round  the  corner  ! 
And  by  whom  ?  [Looks  at  tkket]  "  Mr.  Flipper."  So,  then,  my  fellow 
lodger  is  in  the  pickpocket  line,  I  find;  [Sees  Flipper's  neiv  boots]  Hah, 
and  a  very  good  business  he  must  find  it,  or  he  couldn't  afford  to 
wear  such  boots  as  these — patent  leathers  !  A  regular  heavy  swell 
mobsman  !  Upon  my  life,  it's  too  bad — the  only  coat  I  had  to  wear. 
Eh  !  a  good  thought !  why  not  ?  These  are  his  boots.  At  any  rate 
they're  worth  ten  shillings.  He  popped  my  coat.  Egad  !  I'll  pop 
his  boots  to  get  it  out  again.  Come  along  my  shiuey  friends  !  We 
shan't  be  long  ;  we're  only  going— round  the  corner.       [Exit,  l.  n. 

Flip.  [Eideriiig  e.]  Now  that's  all  right.  I've  taken  more  than  or- 
dinary pains  to  make  myself  look  respectable.  I  know  they  are  so 
particular  in  these  responsible  offices.  I  think  I  shall  do,  at  least 
with  the  addition  of  the  boots,  which  I  contrived  to  get  so  nicely. 
Nothing  sets  a  man  off  so  well  as  a  good  pair  of  boots.  Eh  !  what  a 
confounded  smell  of  tobacco !  Surely  no  one  has  been  smoking  in 
my  room.  [Seespijje.]  Well,  now,  upon  my  word,  that's  cool!  That 
young  scoundrel,  Jim,  has  been  here  with  his  filthy  pipe.  A  meer- 
schaum, too!  The  young  gentleman  does  it  in  style.  There,  that 
will  put  his  pipe  out,  I  think.  YThrowh  it  out  of  idndoxc .]  Now,  I'll 
just  have  some  breakfast.  No  I  won't,  I'll  try  the  boots  on  first  and 
"see  how  they  fit  me.     I  hope  the  fellow  hasn't  made  them  too  big 


NUMBER    ONE,    ROUND    TUE   CORNKU.  I 

— I  do  hate  big  boots.  Eh!  wliy  !  what  the  devil!  I  could  have 
sworn  I  put  them  here —  *  [Looks  round. 

JVob.  [Outbidc,  li.]  Was  there  ever  such  a  s^vindle?  [Entering]  I'm  two- 
pence short. 

Flip.  Sir,  may  I  enquire — 

Nob.  Oh,  you're  there,  are  you  ?  Well,  Sir,  I  tdl  you  I  am  two- 
pence short. 

Fli2}.  Will  you  allow  mc  to  ask — 

Nob.  Certainly  not,  Sir.  Give  me  the  other  twopence  or  I  shall 
instantly  give  you  into  custody. 

Flij).  What  do  you  mean,  fellow  ? 

Nob.  Twopence  more,  or  up  comes  the  policeman. 

Flq).  Will  you  leave  the  room.  Sir? 

Nob.  No,  misguided  young  man,  I  will  not  leave  the  room — at  any 
rate  till  I  get  the  two-pence. 

Flip.  Then,  Sir,  I  shall  kick  you  out.  [Aside.']  At  least,  I  would 
if  I  could  find  my  boots.   [Aloud.]  What  do  you  want  ? 

Nob.  Twopence,  I  tell  you.  Listen  ;  I  went  to  No.  1  round  the 
corner — you  know  the  place— I  need  not  describe  it  further.  I  threw 
my  boots  upon  the  counter. 

Flij}.  Your  boots  !  what  boots  ? 

Nob.  Well,  when  I  say  my  boots,  of  course,  I  mean  your  boots. 

Flip.   [Collaring  him]  Scoundrel,  you  have  pawned  my  boots  ! 

Nob.  Why,  of  course  I  have.     Didn't  you  pawn  my  coat  ? 

Flip.    Your  coat  ?  no. 

Nob.  No!  come  you  know  that  won't  do  anyhow.  I  found  the 
ticket  here  myself,  "  bright  blue  coat,  gilt  buttons." 

Flip.  What !  was  that  your  coat  ? 

Nob.  Oh,  you  didn't  know  it,  of  course- — thoughc  '.t  was  your  own, 
no  doubt.     A  very  natural  mistake,  wasn't  it? 

Hip.  Sir,  1  solemnly  protest  to  you — 

Nob.  There,  don't  make  it  woi'se  by  trying  to  deny  it.  A  fine 
young  man  like  you  just  commencing  life — o'-i.  it'o  too  bad!  Why 
didn't  you  come  to  me  like  a  man,  and  say — "My  good  friend,  I  am 
short  of  cash — will  you  lend  me  ten  shillJBgo'"  in&ccad  of  turning 
thief  and  pawning  a  fellow's  coat.  To  be  sure,  if  you.  had  done  so,  I 
should  not  have  lent  it  you  ;  but  then.  >Jtv  n-,ucl\  quieter  would  be 
your  own  conscience  ! 

Flip.  But  when  I  tell  you — 

Nob.  What's  the  use  of  telling  me.  Y,hf.u  I  tell  yuu  I  must  have 
the  other  twopence. 

Flip.  What  other,twopence  ? 

A^ob.  Why,  when  I  threw  my  boots — that  is,  your  boots — no  they 
are  my  boots;  for  didn'  1 1  take  them  in  execution  for  Ine  cofvt  you  stole. 

Flip.  Sir! 

Nob.  Well,  then,  we'll  say  Uie  boots — I  threw  thcrr.  en  the  count- 
er. "  Ten  shillings,"  says  I.  "What?"  says  our  fi  lend  at  No.  1. 
"  Ten  shillings,"  says  I  again.  "  You  must  be  strangely  ignorant 
of  the  value  of  these  articles,"  says  he.  "  Not  at  all,"  says  I.  "I'll 
lend  you  five,"  says  he.     "  Won't  do,"  says  I.     "  Seven,"    says  ho 


8  NUMBER   ONE,    ROUND    THE   CORNER. 

"Ten,"  said  I,  and  after  a  deal  of  bother  he  consented.  He  handed 
me  the  ticket,  and  I  told  him  I  didn't  want  the  money,  but  I'd  take 
a  bright  blue  coat  with  gilt  buttons,  pawned  this  morning  for  ten 
shillings,  instead.  "  Very  well,  twopence  more,"  says  he.  "Two- 
pence !  for  what?"  says  I.  "  For  the  ticket  and  the  interest,"  says 
he.  "  But  I  haven't  got  twopence,"  says  I.  "  Then  you  can't  have 
the  coat,"  says  he.  "  Then  give  me  back  the  boots,"  says  I ;  I'll 
try  them  somewhere  else."  "  But  there's  the  ticket  and  the  inter- 
est for  them  !"  says  he. 

Flip.  What,  then,  you've  got  neither? 

Nob.  Why,  how  could  I  get  them  when  I  hadn't  got  the  twopence  ? 

Flip.  Confound  it.  Sir,  you  have  made  me  neglect  a  most  important 
appointment — you  liave  pawned  the  only  pair  of  boots  I  had  to  wear. 

Nob.  And  you,  Sir,  by  stealing  the  only  coat  I  have  in  the  world, 
have  been  the  cause  of  my  missing  an  interview  of  the  utmost  con- 
sequence. 

Flij).  What  do  you  propose.  Sir  ? 

Nob.  Why,  that  you  should  instantly  furnish  me  with  twopence, 
and  so  enable  me  to  get  my  coat  back. 

Flip.  And  where  the  devil  am  I  to  get  the  ridiculous  sum  you 
name  ? 

Nob.  Where  ?  Didn't  you  get  ten  shillings  on  the  coat  you  so  in- 
famously appropriated  ? 

Flip.  To  be  sure  I  did,  and  immediately  paid  it  away  for  the  boots 
you  so  feloniously  abstracted. 

Nob.  Then  you  have  no  money  ? 

Flip.  Not  a  farthing. 

Nob.  Nor  anything  else  you  could  take  to  No.  1  ? 

Flip.  Nothing. 

Nob.  The  devil ! — stop,  though,  I  have  it.  My  pipe!  It's  silver 
mounted.     At  least  they'll  lend  me  sixpence  upon  it.   \_Looks  for  it. 

Flip.   \^Aside\  His  pipe  ! 

Nob.  Gone  !  Mr.  Flipper,  I  placed  a  silver  mounted  meershaum  on 
this  mantlepiece — ■ 

Flip.  How  dare  you  smoke  in  my  room,  Sir  ? 

Nob.  The  pipe  I  say — where  is  it  ? 

Flip.  Well,  if  I  must  tell  you,  finding  it  in  my  room,  and  not 
knowing  it  was  yours,  I — 

Nob.  Of  course  you  did — sent  it  to  No.  1,  with  my  coat.  Is  there 
anything  else  of  mine  you  would  like  ? 

Flip.  Sir,  these  insinuations !  I  tell  you  I  threw  j^our  filthy  pipe 
out  of  the  window. 

Nob.  Of  course  you  expect  I'll  swallow  that? 

Flip.  And,  Sir,  unless  you  instantly  quit  this  apartment,  I  shall 
throw  you  after  it. 

Nob.  In  which  case,  I  should  probably  fall  foul  of  a  policeman,  and 
should  give  you  into  custody. 

Flip.  Confound  it.  Sir,  will  nothing  satisfy  you — 

Nob.  Satisfy  me,  certainly  !  I  am  easily  satisfied.  I  only  ask  for 
twopence  to  get  my  coat  again. 


NUJIBER   OXE,     ROUND    THE   CORXEU.  9 

Flip.  Enough,  Sir,  you  shall  have  it,  though  I  descend  so  lev/  as 
to  borrow  of  the  landlady. 

N'oh.  Oh,  descend  by  all  means,  you'll  find  her  down  below. 
Flip.  Yes,  Sir.  I  will  go  down  stairs — I  would  take  any  steps  iu 
order  to  be  rid  of  you.  [Exit  l.  c. 

Nob.  Egad!  a  very  pleasant  fellow-lodger  I  have  got !  I  wonder  if 
he's  got  any  more  of  those  interesting  little  documents  relating  to 
stolen  property.  '  [Takes  up  hill  from  iaUe]  What's  this  ?  Ilis  lodging 
bill — not  paid,  of  course,  And  a  nice  little  sum  it  mounts  up  to. 
Poor  Mrs.  Grampus  !  I'll  just  inform  her  what  kind  of  a  lods:er  she 
has  got.  Perliap's  she'll  be  more  indulgent  with  my  little  bill,  and 
even  now  she  is  doubtless  being  further  victimised.  The  miscreant 
left  this  place  to  Ijorrow  money  of  her !  I  will  instantly  warn  her. 
No  I  won't ;  I'll  wait  till  he  gets  the  twopence,  or  I  shan't  get  my 
coat.  But  after  that,  it  shall  never  be  said  that  I  screened  a  robber. 
What  the  deuce  could  the  fellow  have  had,  to  run  up  such  a  bill  as 
this?  [reads]  "Dec.  20th:  Breakfast,  dinner,  gruel  and  sweet  spirits 
of  nitre."  Gruel,  eh  ?  He's  had  a  cold,  too.  "  21st,  Gruel,"  again  ; 
a  SatZ  cold,  evidently.  "22nd,  Gruel  and  nitre  for  Mr.  Nobbier." 
What's  that  ?  "  23rd,  Gruel  for  Mr.  Nobbier  as  before.  24th— 25th" 
— every  day  the  same  entry,  "Gruel  and  nitre  for  Mr.  Nobbier." 
Is  it  possible  ?  'twas  he,  this  felon,  this  illegal  pawner,  this  purloin- 
er  of  bright  blue  coats  with  gilt  buttons, — was  the  guardian  angel 
that  every  night  brought  that  gruel  to  the  sick  man's  door.  Gener- 
ous criminal !  Your  heart  is  in  the  right  place,  although  your  lingers 
are  so  often  in  the  wrong  persons  pockets.  He  cannot  be  wholly  lost 
to  virtue.  Might  not  my  eloquence  even  yet  recall  him  to  the  paths 
of  rectitude,  and  so  repay  him  for  his  magnanimous  basins  of  gruel  ? 
I'll  try.     Becomes.     Unhappy  man  !  [^n^sr  Flipper,  c. 

Flip.  I  am  really  the  most  unfortunate  fellow  in  the  world. 
Mjb.  You  are  indeed.     But  may  we  not  still  hope.     Stop,  by  the 
bye,  have  you  got  the  twopence  ? 
Flip.  Twopence,  no  ;  how  the  devil  should  I  get  it  ? 
N'oh.  If  as  a  first  step  you  would  onlv  leave  olf  bad  language.  But 
Mrs.  Grampus— 

Flip.  Gone  out,  and  won't  be  back  till  evening.     I  even  degraded 
myself  so  far  as  to  ask  Jim,  the  shoe  boy,  for  the  sum  but  he  hadn't 
got  a  farthing.     So  I  suppose  I  must  be  bored  with  you  all  day. 
Xob.  No,  don't  say  bored  ;  lam  your  best  friend. 
Flij).  Well,  you  have  a  queer  way  of  showing  your  friendship,  at 
any  rate. 

JVob.  How  could  I  be  otherwise  ?  Are  you  not  my  benefactor — my 
guardian  genius  ? 

Flip.  How  ridiculous  you  are  talking  ;  j'.ist  now  I  ruined  you. 
JVob.  And  so  you  have.  But  shall  that  destroy  my  gratitude.  Oh, 
most  magnanimous  of  pickpockets,  did  you  not,  when  I  was  lying 
on  a  bed  of  sickness,  come  to  my  door  eacli  night  and  pour  balm  into 
vay  wounded  heart  in  the  form  of  cleamosynary  gruel  [Embracing  him. 
Flip.  [Shakinj  him  off]  Balm,  indeed  !  Go  to  the  devil  with  your 
gratitude.  I  only  tried  to  stop  your  infernal  cough,  that  hindered 
me  from  sleeping. 


■     10  NUMBER    ONE    ROUND    THE    CORNER. 

Noh.  No ;  3'ou  make  light  of  the  benefits  you  have  conferred  upon 
me — true  test  of  nobleness  !  Oh,  if  you  would  but  reflect  upon  your 
situation  ! 

Flip.  Reflect!  I've  thought  of  nothing  but  m\'  situation,  since 
you've  made  me  lose  all  hopes  of  it,  by  walking  off  with  my  only 
pair  of  boots. 

Nob.  What !  were  you  about  to  seek  employment — about  to  obtain 
an  honest  mode  of  living  ? 

Flip.  Don't  1  tell  you  I  was  going  to  get  a  situation. 

Nob.  And  shall  it  be  said  that  I  was  the  ruin  of  my  benefactor — 
that  I  blighted  the  future  prospects  of  the  man  who  furnished  me 
with  gruel !  Never !  My  friend,  fear  not,  you  shall  have  a  pair  of 
boots  at  any  sacrifice,  \_Rush/is  oat  c. 

Flip.  Well,  he's  a  rum  one,  I  must  say  ;  and  yet  I  rather  like  the 
fellow.  The  idea  of  all  this  gratitude  for  a  few  pints  of  grUel — only 
administered  in  self-defense,  too.  I  wonder  whether  he  will  get  a 
pair  of  boots,  and  so  enable  me  to  keep  my  appointment.  But  he, 
poor  devil,  seems  also  in  a  fix  through  me.  Kgad,  I  wish  I  could 
find  him  a  coat !   [^1  knock  at  the  door  c]  Who's  there  ? 

Lodg.   [Outside]   I  beg  your  pardon,  Sir. 

Flip.  Oh,  it's  that  old  nuisance  on  the  second  floor !  [Half  ojxns  tlic 
door]  What  is  it,  Sir  ? 

Lodg.  [Outside]  You'll  excuse  the  liberty  I'm  taking.  Sir;  but  Mrs. 
Grampus  has  taken  my  boots,  and  ordered  the  servant  not  to  let  me  out 

Flip.  Boots  !  egad,  it's  a  good  idea  to  come  to  me  for  boots. 

Lodg.  No,  Sir,  but  if  you'd  only  allow  me  to  go  through  youf 
room,  and  slip  out  down  the  back  staircase — 

Flip.  Certainly  not,  Sir.  Do  you  suppose  that  I  would  aid  you  in 
swindhng  your  landlady  ?  [Shuts  door. 

Lodg.  One  word,  Sir,  I  pray  ? 

Flip.  [Aside.]  The  very  thing  !  The  fellow's  got  a  coat  on,  and  as 
he's  not  allowed  to  go  out — he  can't  want  it.  [Opens  door]  Well,  Sir, 
I  will  consent  for  this  once  ! 

Lodg.  Oh,  Sir,  a  thousand  thanks  !  [He  is  about  to  enter. 

Flip.  The  devil !  here's  Mrs.  Grampus  coming  up  the  back  stair- 
case— be  off,  she'll  see  you  !  [seizes  a  tail  of  Im  coat  and  jams  it  in  the  door] 
I've  got  him.     [Very  luud]  Hah!  good  morning,  Mrs.  Grampus. 

Lodg.    [Outside]  Open  the  door,  Sir  ;  I'm  caught  I 

Flip.  Be  off,  you  fool,  or  she'll  hear  your  voice  ! 

Lodg.  But  my  coat — 

Flip.  Take  it  off.  I'll  bring  it  up  to  you  when  she's  gone.  [Very 
hud]  Nice  morning,  Mrs.  Grampus.  [Listens']  Hurrah,  he's  gone  and 
left  his  skin  behind  him  !  [Pulls  the  coat  in.]  Ha,  not  a  bad  one — ^just 
brushed  up  a  bit,  I  think  it  will  serve  to  repair  the  wrong  I  have 
done  my  eccentric  friend.  Now,  if  he  is  only  as  lucky  with  tlie  boots  ! 
Where  the  deuce  did  I  put  the  clothes-brush  ?  Oh,  I  know — in-here  I 

[Exit  R.  H. 

Nob.  [Entering  G.  luitlia  pair  of  top  boots]  All  right!  I've  got  them. 
Why,  Where's  the  fellow  gone  to  now?  I  don't  think  I  left  anything 
behind  me  he  could  take  romid  the  corner.     Confound  it ! — after  all 


NUMBER   ONE,    ROUND    THK   COEXER.  11 

the  trouble  I've  had  to  get  these  boots,  I  hope  he  hasn't  gone  with 
oiit  them.  Well,  this,  it  seems,  is  the  second  pair  of  boots  I've  stolen 
to-day — and  yet  you  can  hardly  call  it  stealing.  They  belong  to 
that  poor  devil  on  the  second  floor.  Mrs.  Grampus  had  taken  them 
do\\Ti  to  her  room  to  prevent  his  going  out.  Well,  I  said  to  myself, 
as  he's  not  allowed  to  go  out,  he  can't  have  any  use  for  boots — and 
as  Mrs.  Grampus  can't  by  any  possibility  wear  them  herself,  why 
shouldn't  my  friend  Flipper  keep  them  aired  for  the  poor  fellow? 
Eeally,  petty  larceny  is  nothing  when  you're  used  to  it.  But  where 
the  deuce  is  Flipper  ?  Ah!  he's  coming.  I  wonder  what  he'll  say 
when  he  sees  them.  [Hides  (hem  behind  him. 

Flip.  [Entering  r.]  There  now,  I  think  it  will  do  !  Hah  !  he's  here, 
and  empty-handed  ! — his  errand  has  been  bootless  !  [Hides  coat. 

Nob.  Unhappy  being,  have  you  thought  of  what  I  said  ? 

Flip.  I  have.  You  told  me,  I  believe,  that  if  you  had  a  coat  to  go 
out  in,  you  could  attend  a  meeting  which  would  be  materially  to 
your  advantage. 

Nob.  I  did.  But  being  without  that  somewhat  necessary  garment — 

Flip.  Here ! — take  it  and  be  happy.  [Throws  coat  to  him. 

Nob.  Hah !  And  3'ou,  I  think,  informed  me  that  you  had  every 
chance  of  a  good  situation,  provided  you  had  a  pair  of  boots  to 
wear  ? 

Hip.  I  did — but  as  you  took  away  the  only  pair  I  had — 

Nob.  Hold  ! — take  them,  and  be  honest. 

Flip.  My  best  of  friends  ! 

Nob.  My  benefactor  !   [Embrace. 

Flip.  [Looking  at  boots]  But  I  say,  I  can't  wear  these  things — top- 
boots  ! 

Nob.  Tuck  'cm  under  your  trousers.  [Looking  at  coat]  But  I  can 
never  get  this  bit  of  a  thing  on  my  back  ! 

Flip.  Oh,  you  can  squeeze  into  it.  [  Putttng  on  boots]  You  do  not 
know  the  service  you  have  rendered  me. 

Nob.   [Putting  on  coat]  You  have  put  £20  clear  gain  into  my  pocket. 

Flip.  You  have  done  more — you  have  enabled  me  to  obtain  an  en- 
gagement of  £5  a  week. 

Nob.  Five  pounds  a  week  !  Pray,  Sir,  may  I  enquire  ivliere  the  ap- 
pointment you  were  so  eager  to  keep  is  to  take  place  ? 

Flip.  Certainly — at  the  Bubble  Coffee-house,  in  the  City. 

Nob.  The  Bubble  Coffee-house  !  The  very  place  where  I  was  to  have 
been — 

Flip.  At  one  o'clock  to-day  ? 

Nob.  At  one  P.  M.  Greenwich  time. 

Flip.  And  you  were  to  make  £20  clear  profit — oh  !  I  see  it  all — the 
security  I  was  to  deposit.     So,  Sir,  you,  then,  are  X.  Y.  Z.  ! 

Nob.  And  you  are  A.  B.  G.  !  [They  JcaUc  angrily  about  the  .stage. 

Flip.  And  you.  Sir,  who  have  not  so  much  as  twopence  to  pay  the 
interest  of  your  coat  in  pawn,  are  the  wealthy  projector  of  a  Joint 
Stock  Company  who  was  to  have  given  me  a  salary  of  £5  a  week. 

Nob.  And  you.  Sir,  without  a  shoe  to  your  foot,  compelled  to 
pawn  other  people's  garments  to  buy  yourself  a  pair  of  boots,  are 


12  NCMCEK,   ONE,    ROL'ND    THE   COEHER. 

the  higlily  respectable  individual  wlio  was  to  have  laid  down  £20  se-  • 
curity.     Mr.  Flipper  you  are  a  downright  swindler  ! 

Flip.  Will  you  leave  my  room,  you  miserable  trickster  ? 

Nob.  Yes,  Sir,  I  will.  To  stay  another  moment  in  your  company 
would  be  contamination  !  Bah  !  paltry  schemer  ! 

\_Exit,  savagely,  door  h.  c. 

Flip.  So  this  was  the  appointment  I  was  so  afraid  of  missing. 
Egad  !  It's  lucky  I  didn't  get  my  uncle's  money  ;  or  I  might  have 
said  good  bye  to  my  £20.  Was  there  ever  such  a  swindle?  but  I've 
found  him  out  in  time;  at  any  rate,  I  shan't  be  troubled  with  his 
company  again. 

Mob.   [Re-entering]  It's  no  use,  Flipper,  I  can't  leave  you. 

Flip.  What  do  3'ou  mean  ? 

JVob.  Mean  ?  Why,  when  I  left  my  room  this  morning,  I  pulled  my 
door  to,  and  as  it  opens  with  a  latch-key,  and  as  that  key  is  in  the 
pocket  of  the  coat  you  so  very  illegally  pawned,  I  must  intrude  on 
your  hospitality  until  you  get  it  back  for  me.  [Sits  down. 

Flip.  How  dare  you  show  your  face  to  me  again  ? 

Nob.  There,  it's  no  use  being  angry  ;  let  us  be  friends.  I  tried  to 
swindle  you — you  tried  to  swindle  me. 

Flip.  It's  false  !  Had  I  not  found  you  out,  in  two  days  I  should 
have  been  fool  enough  to  pay  you  the  £20. 

JVob.  You  would  ?  Lord,  what  a  fool  I  was  not  to  keep  it  up  a 
little  longer  ! 

Flij}.  And  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  intend  to  make  mj'  room 
your  home  until — 

Nob.  Until  you  get  my  coat  and  latch  key  from  our  mutual  rela- 
tion at  No.  1,  round  the  corner.  So  perhaps  we  shall  be  companions 
for  some  time. 

Flip.  Companions  !  well,  perhaps  you  are  right.  You  will  always 
find  a  knave  in  the  company  of  a  fool.  You  have  proved  yourself 
the  first.     I  confess  I  was  the  second. 

Nob.  There,  it's  no  use  moralizing  about  it  now ;  you'd  better  take 
it  easy,  and  make  yourself  at  home.  I  can't  be  at  home,  because  I'm 
locked  out,  you  know. 

Flip.  Well,  there's  no  help  for  it  ;  I  can't  go  without  my  break- 
fast till  the  day  after  to-morrow.  It's  pleasant,  though  ;  however, 
in  two  days  my  remittance  will  arrive,  and  then  I  trust  all  this  will 
end.     I'd  end  it  now  if  I  had  anything  else  I  could  pop. 

J^'ob.  Well,  you  have  something  else  to  pop— pop  tlie  question. 

Flip.  Ail,  to  be  sure  !  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  we've  had  almost 
enough  of  pledging  ;  but  there's  just  one  more  required.  Now  will 
you  pledge  us  your  word  that  you  will  come  and  see  us  again  to- 
morrow night  ?  If  you  will  we  will  pledge  yoii  ours  to  try  and  merit 
your  applause.  Leave  your  pledges  with  me  here,  and  you  can  get 
the  ticket  at  the  Box  Office — j^ou  know  it — at  No.  1,  Round  the 
Corner. 


TEYING    IT    ON, 


A  FARCE, 


IlSr     01>aE     -A.CT, 


WRITTEN    BY 


WILLIAM        B  R  O  U  G  H, 


AUTHOR    OF 


A  Phenoincnon  in  a  Smock  Frock,"    ^'Apartments,"    "  House  out  of 
Windoics,"  "  Number  one.  Round  the  Corner,"    "  How  to 
Make  Home  Ilappi/, "   ' '  The  Chameleon," 
Etc.,  Etc. 


Vnm    ORIGINAL    CASTS,     COSTUMES,    AND   THE   WHOLE    OF   THE     STACJE 

BUSINESS,    CORRECTLY    MARIiED    AND   ARRANGED,     BY 

MR.    J.    B.    WRIGHT,    ASSISTANT    MANAGER 

OF   THE    BOSTON    THEATRE. 


0»>i 


NEW  YOEK: 

SAMUEL    FRENCH,   PUBLISHERi 

122  Nassau  Sireit,  (Ur  SiAiRa.) 


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TRYING  IT  ON. 


Scene. — A  dratvlng-room  handsomch)  furnished.  Doors  R.  etna 
L.  and  c.  Fire-place^  viantel-piecc,  l.  h.  Piano  v..  h.  Ta- 
bles L.  H.  with  epergne  of  Jloicers,  scent-bottle,  inkstand  with 
pens,  paper-Jc7iife,  writing  portfolio,  albums,  (kc.,  and  Job- 
stock's  hat.     Work-table  k.  ii.,  work-box,  with  inaterials,  dc. 

Enter  Lrcr,  c.  d.,  ushering  in  Mr.  Tittledat. 

Lucy.  Yes,  sir :  if  you  will  wait  a  moment,  I  will  tell  my 
mistress  you  are  here.  {Aside)  What  on  earth  brings  him  so 
early  this  morning?  [Exit  door,  r.  h. 

Tit.  Now  for  it.  This  time  I  am  determined  I  will  speak 
out ;  after  all  the  trouble  I've  taken  for  her  she  can't  refuse  to 
use  her  influence  for  me  with  her  niece.  She's  coming,  and 
what  do  I  see  ? — Fanny  herself  is  with  her.  Oh,  how  my  heart 
is  kicking  up  its  heels  in  my  breast !  Oh!  (sighs.) 

Enter  Mrs.  Jobstogk  and  Fanny,  d.  r.  ir. 

Good  morning,  my  dear  madam.     Miss  Fanny — 

Mrs.  J.  (Eagerly.)  Well,  have  you  got  it  done? 

Tit.  (Mgstcriously.)  All  right ! 

Mrs,  J.  Thanks!  let  me  look  at  it. 

Tit.  Before  Miss  Fanny  ? 

Mrs.  J.  Oh  !  Fve  no  secrets  from  her  ;  I  brought  her  here 
on  purpose.     Come,  Fanny,  look  at  this. 

(Tittlebat  takes  a  morocco  jewel-case  from  his  pocket 
and  gives  it  to  Mrs.  Jobstogk.) 

Fanny.  (Looking  at  it.)  Well,  aunt,  what  of  it?  It's  your 
necklace  ?     What  loves  of  diamonds  ? 

Mrs.  J.  Are  they  not  ?  You  could  not  tell  them  from  the 
real  ones,  could  you? 

Fanny.  Keal  ones,  aunt  ?  Nonsense  I  What,  the  diamonds 
that  my  uncle  gave  you  ? 

Tit.  Are  gone  back  to  their  uncle  again,  if  I  may  be  allowed 
the  expression. 

Fanny.  Sir! 

Mrs.  J.  The  fact  is,  Fanny,  my  diamond  necklace  is  now  in 
the  hands  of  a  jeweller,  who  has  lent  me  some  money  upon  it. 
This  is  an  imitation  one  I  have  had  made  to  wear  until  I  can 
get  my  own  back  again. 

Fanny.  Impossible ! 

Mrs.  J.  Oh,  not  at  all ;  it's  the  old  story,  my  unlucky  broth- 
er in  trouble  again. 

Fanny.  What,  uncle  George  ? 


4  TRYING  IT  ON. 

Mrs.  J.  Yes,  silly  fellow;  he  has  put  his  name  to  a  bill  to 
oblige  a  friend — his  friend  has  somehow  disappeared. 

Tit.  As  friends  somehow  invariably  do  in  these  cases. 

Mrs.  J.  And  George  was  left  to  pay  it.  To  save  him  from 
prison,  I  have  borrowed  the  money,  as  I  tell  you  ;  I  could  not 
ask  my  husband,  lie  has  paid  George's  debts  two  or  three 
times  already ;  besides,  I  know  all  his  money  is  locked  up  in 
shares  and  scrip,  and  things  of  that  sort,  so  that  he  couldn't  do 
it,  even  if  he  would. 

Tit.  And  v.'c  know  he  wouldn't  even  if  he  could,  Miss  Fanny ; 
so  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  arranging  it. 

Mrs.  J.  I  don't  know  how  I  can  ever  hope,  sir,  to  repay  your 
kindness.  {Goes%ip  and  places  the  case  open  in  aworkbox,  on 
table,  R.) 

Tit.  Pray  do  not  mention  it.  But  oh,  Miss  Fanny,  if  /might 
mention  something — 

Fanny.  Don^t  sir,  I  beg.  {Turns  away.) 

Tit.  But  if  you  only  knew — 

Enter  Jobstock  hastily,  a  newspaper  in  his  hand,  d.  l.  h. 

Job.  Hollo  !  Tittlebat,  you  here  ?    Seen  the  paper  ? 

Tit.  I— no! 

Job.  Such  news.  Now's  the  time  to  make  our  fortunes. 
Look,  United  Nugget  mining  shares  down  to  30,  and  the  Bal- 
loon Navigations  at  SO  premium.  Didn't  I  tell  you  those  Bal- 
loons would  go  up  ?  Come,  Fanny,  quick,  my  hat.  (Fanny 
gets  it  from  L.  table,  and  gives  it  him.) 

Mrs.  J.  You  surely  won't  go  out  without  your  breakfast. 

Job.  Breakfast — I  breakfast,  with  United  Nuggets  down  to 
30.  Impossible ;  come  Tittlebat,  or  we  shall  miss  the  market. 
You,  I  think,  have  given  some  attention  to  the  Nuggets. 

Tit.  {Looking  fondly  at  Fanny.)  I,  no — for  months  I've 
thought  of  nothing  but — • 

Job.  Balloons !     Well,  come  along — 

Tit.  But  if  I  dared  to  ask  Miss  Fanny  ? 

Job.  Nonsense.  What's  the  use  of  asking  her  ?  What  do 
ffomen  know  about  it?  {Getting  him  to  c.  d.) 

Tit.  But  I  just  wanted  to  speak  to  you  on  the  subject  of — 

Job.  I  know  ;  those  preferential  shares  of  yours.  We  will 
talk  of  those  as  we  go  along.  Stop.  By-the-bye,  Mrs.  Job- 
stock,  I've  got  a  new  clerk  coming  to-day,  if  he  calls  let  him 
wait.     Come,  Tittlebat. 

Tit.  One  moment. 

Job.  Come ;  wc  shall  be  too  late. 

[Exeunt  Jobstock  and  Tittlebat,  c. 

Fan.  Well,  he's  gone  at  last.  That  Mr.  Tittlebat  is  really 
getting  quite  a  nuisance.  {Sits  at  table,  l.  h.) 

Mrs.  J.  {Seated  at  table,  R.  h.)  No,  don't  say  that.  I'm  sure 
he's  very  kind.  But,  come  ;  what's  this  you  were  going  to  tell 
me  about  your  adventure  at  the  Opera  last  night? 

Fan.  Oh,  yes.  You  know  I  went  with  the  Hendersons.  We 
had  such  a  nice  box,  close  to  the  stage,  on  the  pit  tier;  well, 
after  the  first  act,  I  hiippcncd  to  look  into  the  stalls,  and  there. 


TRYING  IT  OX.  5 

close  to  our  Ijox,  I  obserTcd  a  gentlemau.    Oh !  Oh !  such  a 
nice-lookiug  young  man. 

Mus.  J.  Fanny,  my  dear ! 

Fan.  Well,  what  ?  I  couldn't  help  his  being  good-looking ; 
could  I  ?  But  I  was  going  to  tell  you.  What  made  me  notice 
him  was  the  extraordinary  manner  in  which  he  kept  fidgetting 
about.  He  could  not  sit  still  a  moment.  First  I  noticed  hira 
picking  open  a  little  hole  in  the  back  of  the  seat,  where  the 
stitches  had  begun  to  give  way.  As  soon  as  he  had  succeeded 
in  making  this  big  enough  to  get  his  fingers  in,  he  commenced 
scratching  a  speck  of  white  off  a  gentleman's  coat  in  front  of 
him.  Well,  the  gentleman  turned  round  to  ask  him  what  he 
meant  by  it :  he  was,  of  course,  full  of  apologies,  they  entered 
into  conversation,  and  all  the  while  they  were  talking,  I  noticed 
him  buttoning  and  unbuttoning  the  other  gentleman's  waist- 
coat, arranging  his  watch-chain,  and,  in  fact,  setting  him  gen- 
erally to  rights. 

Mrs.  J.  ^Yhat  impudence ! 

Fan.  Oh,  that's  nothing.  The  next  thing  that  seemed  to 
strike  his  fancy  was  a  hat  that  somebody  had  placed  on  the 
seat  near  him  ;  he  took  it  up  and  turned  it  round  and  round  in 
his  hands,  smoothed  down  the  nap,  looked  into  it,  at  the  name 
of  the  maker,  and  was  just  going  to  put  it  on  his  own  head, 
when  the  owner  of  the  hat  turned  around,  and  threatened  to 
have  him  put  out  of  the  theatre. 

Mrs.  J.  Serve  him  right. 

Fan.  I  couldn't  help  laughing  at  him.  I  turned  round  to 
point  him  out  to  Julia;  and  when  I  looked  again,  what  do  you 
think  he  had  got  hold  of? 

Mrs.  J.  Wiiat  ? 

Fan.  Why,  my  opera  glass,  which  was  lying  on  the  ledge  of 
the  box ;  and  there  he  was  as  busy  as  possible,  breathing  on 
the  glasses,  rubbing  them  with  his  handkerchief,  then  looking 
through  them  to  see  if  they  were  clean,  and  then  rubbing  them 
again ;  at  last  he  began  unscrewing  one  of  them. 

Mrs.  J.  Well,  and  what  did  you  do  ? 

Fan.  Why,  I  tried  to  take  it  from  him,  of  course  ;  but  the 
moment  I  reached  out  my  arm  to  take  it,  he  put  down  the  glass 
and  took  my  hand. 

Mrs.  J.  Good  gracious  ? 

Fan.  Lor,  aunt,  I'm  sure  he  meant  no  harm,  it's  evidently 
only  a  habit  he  has  got  of  touching  everything  ho  comes  near. 

Mrs.  J.  Yes,  but  when  it  comes  to  touching  ladies'  hands — 

Fan.  Oh,  there !  Mr.  Henderson  spoke  to  him  about  it,  and 
made  such  a  fuss.  I  was  really  quite  sorry  for  the  poor  fellow 
— he  seemed  so  dreadfully  confused  and  vexed  at  what  he  had 
done.  I  didn't  hear  a  note  of  the  opera  for  looking  at  him; 
no  more  did  he,  I'm  sure  ;  for  every  time  I  turned  my  head,  I 
found  his  eyes  fixed  firmly  upon  me.  I'm  certain,  aunt,  he's  a 
perfect  gentleman. 

Mrs.  J.  Clasping  an  unknown^  lady's  hand,  and  afterwards 
staring  her  out  of  countenanco,  are  truly  admirable  proofs  of  his 
good  breeding. 


6  TRYIXG  IT  ON. 

Fan.  No  ;  but  really,  .aunt — 

Enter  Lucy,  d.  r.  ii. 

LtJCT.  Breakfast  is  on  the  table,  please  ma'am. 

Mrs.  J.  There,  come  along,  Fanny,  this  very  fidgetty  friend 
of  yours  won't  trouble  you  again,  depend  upon  it. 

Fan.  Lor,  aunt,  he's  no  friend  of  mine. 

{Exeunt  Mrs.  J.  and  Fanny,  d.  r.  n.) 

LucT.  There's  master  gone  without  his  breakfast  again.  I 
never  saw  such  a  man,  not  I.  He's  always  in  a  hurry ;  no 
time  to  eat  or  drink  any  thing.  {Dusting  the  furniture  with  a 
feather  brush.)  Oli !  lor,  here's  mississ's  diamond  necklace. 
{Sieing  them  in  open  case,  on  table  R.)  Oh  !  what  ducks  of  dia- 
monds, to  be  sure. 

Mr.  Walsingham  Potts  is  heard  outside,  l.  c. 

"Wal.  In  here,  thank  you.  By-the-bye,  your  clock  is  ten 
minutes  too  slow.  {Enters  l.)  Hah !  good  morning,  my  dear ! 
Are  you  aware  that  your  clock  is  slow  ?  A  Dutchman,  I  believe? 
Dutchmen  are  always  slow.     May  I  ask  if  your  mistress  is  in  ? 

Lucy,  (r.)  Yes  sir,  but  she  is  at  breakfast. 

Wal.  (l.)  At  breakftist,  eh !  Oh,  don't  disturb  her.  I  can 
wait.     And  her  niece  ? 

Lucy.  Miss  Fanny  ?     She's  at  breakfast  too,  sir. 

Wal.  {Aside.)  Fanny i  Her  name  is  Fanny!  Sweetest  of 
Fannies !  And  she  is  now  engaged  in  the  delightful  task  of 
breakfasting.     Oh  happy  muffins !  how  I  envy  you ! 

Lucy.  If  you  will  take  a  seat,  sir — 

Wal.  No,  thank  you,  don't  mind  me.  That's  a  nice  little 
cap  of  yours,  by-the-bye.  I  wonder  how  I  should  look  in  it  ? 
Let  me  try  it  on?  No?  You  won't?  Oh,  very  well,  never 
mind.  I  don't  like  these  ribbands  though,  some  of  those  cheap 
and  nasty  Tottenham-court-road  things.  {He  pulls  one  off".) 
Hah !  bought  ready-made,  of  course ;  those  things  never  will 
hold  together.  Indeed,  I  don't  sec  how  we  can  expect  them 
to  do  so  at  the  price  that's  paid  for  needlework.  Do  you? 
Of  course  not.  No,  depend  upon  it,  the  whole  system  is  alto- 
gether rotten,  {pidls  another  of,)  very  rotten. 

Lucy.  Really,  sir,  excuse  mc,  but  if  you  will  have  the  kind- 
ness to  sit  down — 

Wal.  No,  I  prefer  standing,  thank  you,  but  as  I  was  say- 
i  ig —     {He  pulls  a  pin  out  of  her  apron.) 

Lucy.  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but — 

Wal.  Oh!  not  at  all,  not  in  the  least.  Eh?  Why  I've 
surely  not  done  anything  to  offend  you,  have  I  ?  Now  really,  if 
I  have — What  a  comical  little  apron,  to  be  sure !  {Takes  it 
cff  and  puts  it  on  himself,  Lucy  snatches  it  aicaij.) 

Lucy.  If  you  will  obhge  me  with  your  name,  I  will  say  you 
are  here. 

Wal.  My  name? — oh  certainly.  Mr.  Y.'alsingham  Potts.  But 
pray  tell  the  ladies  to  finish  their  breakfast,  and  not  to  hurry 
on  my  account.  Here,  stop,  look  here — here's  a  needle.  {Picks 
one  "p.)     Nasty  tilings  to  be  lying  about.     {Gives  it  her.) 


TRYING  IT  ON.  7 

Lucr.  Thank  you,  sir.     Mr.  Potts,  I  think  you  said ?  {Going.) 

Wal.  Walsingham  Potts ;  don't  forget  the  Walsingham, 
whatever  you  do.  The  elegance  of  my  christian  name  is  the 
only  reparation  I  can  possibly  make  for  the  utter  vulgarity  of 
my  surname ;  Walsingham  is  a  sort  of  currant  jelly  in  which  we 
swallow  the  bitter  pill,  Potts  ! 

Lucy.  Yes,  sir,  Mr.  Watering  Potts.  [Uxit  d.  r.  h. 

Wal.  {Calling  after  her.)  Walsingham  !  and  mind  two  t's  in 
Potts,  d'ye  hear  ?  Stupid  thing !  She's  safe  to  make  a  mess  of 
it.  Well,  here  I  am !  beneath  the  roof  that  covers  in  my 
Fanny !  So  I  shall  see  her  again — shall — {slopping  ahruptly 
as  if  some  one  had  spoken.)  Eh?  what's  that?  {To  audience.) 
Who  am  I  ?  ah,  to  be  sure,  I  forgot.  Well  then,  my  name  is 
Walsingham  Potts.  Potts  with  two  t's —  I  told  you  that  before, 
I  think.  Six-and-twenty  years  of  age — hving  on  my  property, 
five  hundred  a  year — good  expectations,  good  health,  and  the 
best  of  spirits.  And  here  I  am  beneath  the  roof  that  covers  in 
my  Fanny  !  {Stopping  again.)  Eh? — I  beg  your  pardon — Oh! 
because  I  said  my  Fanny.  Well,  so  she  will  be  my  Fanny,  at 
least,  if  I  have  any  luck.  I've  come  here  to  make  her  my  wife. 
You  must  know  I  met  her  last  night  at  Covent  Garden.  She 
was  sitting  in  a  box  close  to  me.  She  turned  her  eyes  on  me — 
full,  like  a  policeman  would  his  lantern.  I  was  a  dead  man — 
pierced  through  and  through.  However,  I  made  inquiries  and 
found  she  was  the  niece  of  a  Mrs.  Jobstock,  and,  as  I  think  I 
said  before,  here  I  am  !  {Takes  up  the  brush  ichile  speaking aiid 
plucks  the  feathers  out.)  Perhaps  you'd  hke  to  know  how  I'm 
going  to  introduce  myself  to  the  family,  now  I  am  here  ;  the 
easiest  thing  in  the  world.  I  belong  to  the  family.  I  know 
there  was  a  great  aunt  of  mine  married  to  a  Mr.  Jobstock  in 
India.  Therefore,  of  course,  I'm  related.  {Takes  differe7it  arti- 
cles from  the  table  while  speaking,  takes  a  flower  from  a  vase  and 
puts  it  in  his  button-hole.)  Really,  my  relations  show  a  great 
deal  of  taste  in  the  way  this  place  is  furnished.  Eau  de  Cologne, 
too.  {Using  it  for  his  handkerchief .)  How  nice  this  is  now. 
Well,  I  wish  she  would  come.  They  are  a  long  while  break- 
fasting. {Sees  necklace.)  What's  this?  A  necklace  ?  Her's  of 
course.  Diamonds !  Not  half  so  brilliant  as  her  eyes.  To 
think  that  this  has  clasped  her  neck — her  charming  fairy  neck 
— slender  as  any  swan's.  I  suppose  now,  it  would  go  about 
half  way  round  my  great  bull  throat.  {Puts  the  necklace  round 
his  neck.)    Perhaps  not  that. 

Enter  Lucy  abruptly,  d.  r  .n. 

Lucy.  She's  here,  sir. 

Wal.  Eh !  {He  ■•ifarfs,  the  necklace  slips  of  down  hi.f  hack,  he 
thrusts  his  hand  after  it,  tri/ing  to  catch  it.  Aside.)  Good  gra- 
cious !  it's  gone  down  my  back. 

Lucy.  What's  the  matter,  sir? 

Wal.  Matter, — nothing,  I'm  only  feeling  for  my  gloves. 

Lucy.  What  ?  do  you  keep  them  there,  sir  ? 

Wal.  Of  course,  where  should  I  keep  tliem?     Go,  be  off! 

Lucy.  Why  here  are  your  gloves,  sir,  in  your  hat. 


8  TRYING  IT  ON. 

Wal.  No,  no !  Did  I  say  gloves — I  don't  mean  that,  of 
course.     It's  my  latch-key — there,  leave  me,  I  tell  yon. 

Lucy.  Yes,  sir.  (^.sitfe)  Whatever  ails  the  man?     [Uxitc.Ji. 

Wal.  It's  going  further.  (He  pushes  his  right  hand  still 
further  down  his  back,  and  puts  his  left  under  his  waistcoat.) 

Enter  Mrs.  Jobstock,  d.  r.  n. 

Oh  lord  !  the  aunt.  {Withdraws  his  hands  rapldli/  and  endea- 
vors  to  appear  composed.) 

Mrs.  J.  (r.)  Good  morning,  sir.  You  wished  to  see  me,  I 
believe. 

Wal.  (l.)  No,  madam — I — at  least — that  is,  yes,  I  thought — 
I  mean —  [Aside)  Ugh!  there  it  goes. 

Mrs.  J.  You  are,  I  presume,  the  new  clerk  that  my  husband 
is  expecting  ? 

Wal.  Certainly  not,  madam;  quite  the  contrary,  I  assure 
you.  But  I've  no  doubt  disturbed  you ;  you  have  not  finished 
your  breakfast.  Let  me  beg  of  you  to  finish,  I  will  await  with 
pleasure. 

Mrs.  J.  Thank  you,  sir,  I  have  breakfasted. 

Wal.  But  won't  you  take  another  cup  of  coffee  :  do  let  me 
prevail  on  you.     Well,  half  a  cup ! 

Mrs.  J.  I'd  rather  not,  I  thank  you. 

Wal.  {Buttoning  his  coat.)  If  I  could  only  stop  it  going  any 
further.  (Aside.) 

Mrs.  J.  But  pray  be  seated,  sir.  {She  sits,  R.  H.) 

Wal.  You're  very  kind.  {Sits,  l.  h.) 

Mrs.  J.  You  seem  uneasy  ? 

Wal.  Yes,  madara.  If  I  must  tell  you,  the  fact  is,  I  am  suf- 
fering from  chilblains.  Oh !  {He  seizes  at  his  coat  near  the 
waist  as  if  to  stop  the  necklace.)     It's  going ! 

Mrs.  J.  From  chilblains.     There ! 

Wal.  Yes,  madam,  here  exactly,  this  is  the  place  ;  I  feel  it 
now  just  under  my  hand.  But  don't  take  any  notice  of  it,  I 
am  subject  to  them. 

Mrs.  J.  But  pray,  may  I  ask  the  object  of  your  visit,  sir  ? 

Wal.  Madam !  my  name  is  Walsingham  Potts. 

Mrs.  J.  Yes,  sir ;  my  servant  informed  me  of  the  fact. 

Wal.  a  perfect  paragon  of  honesty ;  I  pledge  my  word,  I 
wouldn't  rob  a  hving  being  of  a  farthing. 

Mrs.  J.  {Laughing.)  Really,  sir,  I  don't  know  that  I  have 
ny  right  to  demand  a  certificate  of  your  good  character. 

Wal.  Eh  ?  of  course  not ;  that's  exactly  what  I-  meant  to 
say,  only,  when  you  don't  know  people,  you  might  suspect ; 
that  is,  I  mean — {aside)  I  don't  know  what  I'm  saying, — {aloud) 
Walsingham  Potts,  madam,  six  and  twenty  years  of  age,  five 
hundred  a  year,  good  expectations,  good  health,  and  the  best 
of  spirits. 

Mrs.  J.  {Aside,)  He's  evidently  mad.  {Aloud,)  But,  sir, 
may  I  a«;ain  request  you'll  tell  me,  to  what  I  owe  the  honor  of 
this  visit. 

Wal.  Ah,  true !  Then  madam,  you  must  know  my  name  is 
Walsingham  Potts. 


TRYING  IT  ON,  » 

Mrs.  J.  Again! 

Wal.  As  honest  as  the  day,  I  pledge  my  honor,  wouldn't 
rob  a  living  being  of  a  penny. 

Mrs.  J.  But,  sir — 

Wal.  Oh !  by-the-by,  I  told  you  that  before.  Well,  madam, 
the  fact  is,  I  am  nearly  related  to  your  family,  by  the  Indian 
branch. 

Mrs.  J.  The  Indian  branch 

Wal.  Precisely,  the  Jobstocks,  of  Bombay ;  you  know. 

Mrs.  J.  Sir,  I  am  not  aware  that  I  have  any  such  relations ; 
perhaps  some  distant  connexions  of  my  husband's. 

Wal.  Ah!  you've  got  a  husband,  have  you?  you  don't  say 
so.     He's  pretty  well,  I  hope  ? 

Mrs.  J.  Quite  well. 

Wal.  That's  right.  Quite  well,  eh  ?  I  am  delighted  to  hear 
it — and  the  rest  of  the  family  ? 

Mrs.  J.  (Aside.)  Oh !  this  is  getting  past  all  bearing ;  the 
man's  decidedly  an  idiot.  How  shall  1  get  rid  of  him  ?  (Aloud.) 
Excuse  me,  sir,  I  am  most  grieved  to  lose  your  highly  enter- 
taining conversation,  (rising)  but — 

Wal.  (Rising)   Oh!  madam,  oh!  (Puts  Ids  hand  to  his  hack.) 

Mrs.  J.  What  is  it  ? 

Wal.  Only  a  touch  of  the  tooth-ache ;  never  mind  it.  I  am 
subject  to  it. 

Mrs.  J,  Good  morning,  my  dear  sir,  I  am  most  grieved  at 
being  forced  to  leave  you.  [^Exit  d.  r.  h. 

Wal.  Madam,  I'm  truly  sorry.  Eh !  thank  heaven  she  is 
gone.  Now  for  it.  (He  makes  renewed  efforts  to  reach  the  neck- 
lace.) Oh,  lord !  it's  gone  out  of  reach.  Hah,  the  tongs ! 
(He  takes  the  tongs  and  puts  them  down  his  back.)  Ugh,  how 
cold  they  are  ?  Now  gently — gently — hah !  I've  got  it.  (Draws 
out  the  tongs.)  Oh,  it's  gone  again.  There's  no  help  for  it, 
here  goes.  (He  takes  his  coat  off  and  tries  to  reach  it  beneath  his 
waistcoat.)  No.  (Unbuttons  his  waistcoat.)  Now  I  must  get 
it.  Yes — no,  it's  gone.  (WitJi  a  sudden  thought.)  Tooh! 
what  folly,  putting  myself  in  such  a  state  about  it,  it's  all  right ; 
now — of  course — I  ought  to  have  tried  that  plan  before. 
(Shakes  his  leg  so  as  to  kick  it  out  at  the  leg  of  his  trousers.) 
Yes,  there  it  goes — Oh !  it's  in  my  boot.  Good  gracious !  and 
I  wear  straps. 

Enter  Tittlebat,  c.  d. 

Tit.  Hallo! 

\^\1j.  (Aside.)     The  husband,  for  a  thousand.    I  am  ruined! 

Tit.  You  seem  at  home  here,  sir  ? 

Wal.  (Confused.)  Yes,  my  coat — you  see  it's  tight — at  least 
those  scoundrels  of  tailors.  (Sits  down  on  the  notes  of  the  piano 
R.  and  immediately  jumps  up  again.)     Wliat  am  I  at  ? 

Tit.  (Not  having  seen  him  sit  down.)  Oh,  I  see,  you're  tho 
man  that's  come  to  tune  the  piano  then. 

Wal.  (Seizing  the  idea.)  Exactly  so.  (Sits  down  and  hcginit 
to  tune.)     But  how  is  any  one  to  tunc  with  people  in  the  room. 


10  TRYING  IT  ON. 

{Sings  up  an  octave  and  strikes  the  notes  louder  than  ever.)   Go. 
sir,  it's  absolutely  necessary  I  should  be  alone. 

Enter  Fanny,  d.  r.  h. 

Fan.  What  on  earth  is  all  this  noise  ? 

Tit.  It's  the  tuner. 

Wal.  {Aside.)     She  here  too!  it's  getting  pleasant. 

Tit.  Oh,  Miss  Fanny  !  how  I  bless  the  happy  chance  that — 

Fan.  Yes,  I  know  ;  but  I  believe  my  uncle  wants  you  in  the 
office. 

Wal.  {Aside.)  So  it's  not  the  uncle ;  perhaps  a  rival.  Oh, 
if  I  thought  so,  I'd —  {Strikes  the  notes  furiou.slt/.) 

Tit.  Yes,  Miss  Fanny,  I'm  going ;  but  oh,  if  you  knew  how 
I  bless  the  happy  chance  that — 

(Wal.  plays  lovder  so  as  to  droion  his  voice.) 

Tit.  Confound  the  fellow  with  his  infernal  din.  {Shakes  his 
fist  at  him.,  kisses  his  hand  to  Fannt,  and  exit  c.  n.) 

Fan.  {Approaching  the  piano.)    I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but — 
(Wal.  plays  and  sings  the  notes  as  if  tuning.,  and 
turns  his  face  away.) 

Fan.  {Going  to  the  other  side  of  him,  recognizes  him.)     Ah  ! 

Wal.  {Aside.)  She  has  seen  me. 

Fan.  You  here,  sir  ? 

Wal.  Then  you  have  not  forgotten  me . 

Fan.  Forgotten  you,  no — at  least,  I  mean,  I  did  not  know 
you  were  a  piano-forte  tuner. 

Wal.  Nor  am  I,  fairest  creature.     {Coining  forv)ard.) 

Fan.  (l.)     Sir! 

Wal.  (r.)  No,  'twas  a  subterfuge — a  disguise — to  gain  ad- 
mission to  your  presence. 

Fan.  This  language  from  a  stranger? 

Wal.  No,  not  a  stranger ;  a  relation  by  the  Jobstocks  of 
Bombay ;  a  distant  cousin,  that  would  be  a  nearer  one ;  a  cousin 
who  adores  you! 

Fan.  Sir! 

Wal.  No,  do  not  start,  I  know  the  forms  of  society  require  ■ 
that  I  should  be  introduced  to  you,  but  what  arc  these  cold, 
heartless  forms  to  me ;  with  love  hke  mine  I  can  afford  to 
trample  on  them,  thus.  {He  strikes  his  foot  down,  and  imme- 
diately draws  it  up  again  witli  a  cry  of  pain.)  {Aside.)  Oh 
lord,  those  diamonds,  how  they  cut ! 

Fan.  Eh,  what  is  that  ? 

Wal.  Nothing,  fair  angel ;  'twas  but  the  ardor  of  my  love. 
{A.<<ide.)     Oh !  that  I  had  a  boot-jack. 

Fan.  Enough,  sir;  leave  me,  I  command  you. 

Wal.  Never !  {KneeVmg,  takes  her  hand.)  On  this  fair — 
boot-jack — I  mean  on  this — 

Enter  Mrs.  Jobstock,  d.  r.  n. 

Wal.  Oh,  lord!  the  aunt. 

Mrs.  J.  (r.)  What,  not  gone  yet?  Fanny,  how  is  this? 
You  know  this  gentleman  ? 

Fan.  Yes,  aunt;  at  least,  he  is —  {Crossing  to  her.) 


TRYING  IT  ON.  11 

Wal.  Walsingliam  Potts,  madam. 

Mrs.  J.  Twenty-six  years  of  age,  five  liuiulred  a  year,  &c., 
&c.,  &c.     I  am  aware  of  it. 

Fax.  Pray  don't  be  angry,  aunt :  indeed,  I  couldn't  help  it. 
This  is  the  gentleman  I  told  you  of. 

Wal.  Exactly  so,  the  gentleman  she  told  you  of. 

Mks.  J.  What  gentleman  ? 

Fan.  [timidly.)     The  one  I  saw  last  night  at  the  opera. 

Mrs.  J.  He,  and  come  here !  what  impudence. 

Wal.  Not  in  the  least,  my  dear  madam,  I  assure  you.  Lis- 
ten, and  I  will  tell  you  all  aljout  it.  In  the  first  place,  you 
must  know  I  rent  a  stall  in  Covent  Garden — of  course  I  mean  a 
stall  in  the  opera — not  in  the  market. 

Mrs.  J.  Sir,  I  have  already  heard  quite  enough  about  your 
own  affairs — all  I  want  to  know  is,  what  brought  you  here  ? 

Wal.  a  pair  of  eyes  ;  bright,  radiant  as  diamonds.  {Aside,') 
Confound  the  diamonds,  I  can  think  of  nothing  else  !  {Aloud,) 
Or  rather  let  me  say,  two  brilliant  stars  ;  two  pole  stars — if  you 
will  allow  the  astronomical  impossibility — which  have  attracted 
the  most  sensitive  of  magnets — myself. 

Mrs.  J.  And  this  fine  speech  translated  into  English,  means — 

Wal.  Your  niece. 

Mrs.  J.  Fanny  ? 

Fan.  Indeed,  aunt,  I  couldn't  help  it. 

Mrs.  J.  Enough.     Now  let  me  beg  of  you  to  leave  my  house. 

Wal.  Never !  until  I  have  had  the  assurance  that  I  may  be 
allowed  to  hope — 

Mrs.  J.  Sir? 

Fan.  Aunt,  let  me  leave  the  room. 

Wal.  Until  I  hear  that  blessed  avowal,  here  do  I  firmly 
plant  my  foot —  {Is  ahovt  to  stamp  his  right  foot,  but  reme77i- 
berinff  the  diamonds  in  his  boot,  changes  it  to  the  left  with  an 
expression  of  pain.)     No,  not  there.     Here  do  I  plant  my  foot. 

Mrs.  J.  If  you  compel  me,  sir,  to  send  for  the  police — 

Fan.  Oh  no,  aunt ;  don't,  pray  don't.  He'll  leave  the  house, 
I'm  sure,  if  I  request  him. 

Wal.  On  one  condition,  that  you  promise  we  shall  meet 
again. 
^Fan.  {Bashfulhi.)     May  I,  aunt  ? 

Mrs.  J.  What,  a  perfect  stranger  ;  forcing  his  way  thus  into 
people's  houses  without  an  introduction  '? 

VVal.  What!  didn't  I  introduce  myself ?  I  really  beg  par- 
don. Allow  me,  madam  ;  my  name  is  Walsingliam  Potts,  I 
am  six  and  twenty — 

Mrs.  J.  Enough,  sir;  let  me  once  more  beg  of  you  lo  go 
before  my  husband  returns.  For  my  niece's  sake  I  will  forgive 
your  extraordinary  conduct;  but  should  my  husband  find  you 
Itere,  he  would  be  furious.     Go,  sir. 

\\'al.  You  promise  then  I  may  return  ? 

Fan.  {A fide  to  licr.)     Oh  do,  aunt. 

Wal.  With  that  assurance  I  depart.  I  leave  my  lieurt  be- 
nuid  and  carry  with  me  in  exchange —  {Aside.)  Good  heav- 
^n«!   I'd  forgotten.     ^Vhat  di»  I  carry  Mith  me;  in  exchange? 


1*S  TRYING  IT  ON. 

the  dhmundrt !  an  exchange  that  the  most  ardent  lover  of  old 
proverbs  would  hesitate  to  call  "no  robbery." 

Mrs.  J.  Well,  sir  ? 

Fan.  Pray  go  before  my  uncle  returns. 

Wal.  (Aside,)  She  too  would  urge  me  on  to  the  larceny. 
{Aloud,)  No,  ladies,  on  the  whole  I  think  it  best  to  stay — (a- 
side,)  at  least,  until  I  find  a  boot-jack. 

Mrs.  J.  Oh,  sir,  I  hear  my  husband. 

Fan.  Aunt,  don't  expose  him,  there's  a  darling.  Fm  sure 
he  meant  no  harm. 

Enter  Jobstock,  C.  d. 

Job.  All  right,  my  dear,  {placing  his  hat  on  L.  H.  table.)  I 
never  shall  have  such  a  chance.  {Seeing  Potts,)  I  beg  your 
pardon,  may  I  ask  to  whom  I  have  the  honor — 

Mrs.  J.  {Confused.)     This  gentleman  has  come — 
(Fanny  pulls  Iter  dress  and  makes  signs  to  her  not  to  betray  him.) 

Fan.  Yes,  uncle,  the  new  clerk  you  expected. 

Wal.   {Aside.)     A  clerk? 

Mrs.  J.  {Aside  to  her.)  Good  heavens,  Fanny,  how  impru- 
dent!  {2'heii  talk  aside.) 

Job.  I'll  talk  to  you  when  I  come  back,  young  man,  I  hav'nt 
thne  at  pi-esent.     Mai-ia? 

Mrs.  J.  Eh !  did  you  speak  to  me  ? 

Job.  I  want  to  ask  you  a  favor.  I  know  you'll  do  it  for  me; 
you've  told  me  fifty  times  you  would  if  I  required  it.  Well 
now,  I  do  require  it ;  you'll  do  it,  won't  you  ? 

Mrs.  J.  Of  course  I  will,  if  it  is  in  my  power. 

Job.  I  knew  it.    Come  then,  lend  me  your  diamond  necklace. 

Mrs.  J.  {Terrified.)     My  diamond  necklace ? 

Wal.  {Aside.)  Her  necklace!  Ilah!  It  only  wanted  that. 
I  wonder  if  the  treadmill  is  so  very  disagreeable. 

Job.  Yes;  it  is  only  for  a  time.  I'll  promise  you  shall  have 
it  back  to-morrow. 

Mrs.  J.  {Aside.)     How  shall  I  tell  him  I  have  parted  with  it  ? 

Wal.  {Aside,  seeing  t]ie  case.)  Oh,  lord!  they'll  find  the 
empty  case.     {Pockets  it  and  shuts  tfie  work-box.) 

Job.  You  surely  won't  refuse  me,  so  often  as  you've  told  me 
if  I  wanted  money  I  might  have  it ;  and  now  when  I  have 
every  chance  of  making  a  fortune — if  I  had  only  a  little  ready 
money — wliat  I  could  raise  on  your  necklace,  added  to  what  I 
have,  would  make  £200,  with  that — 

Mrs.  J.  Refuse  you,  no ;  but —  {Aside  to  Fannt,)  What 
shall  I  say  to  him  ? 

Fan.  But  uncle,  why  not  get  your  banker  to  advance  the 
money  ? 

.Jon.  Impossible !  were  it  known  to  a  single  individual  that 
I  was  buying,  the  shares  would  go  up  like  lightning  before  x 
could  get  hold -of  them.  Am  I  not  right,  young  man  ?  They 
tell  me  you  know  all  about  the  Stock  Exchange. 

Wal.  {Aside.)  The  deuce  I  do.  {Aloud.)  Why  to  a  cer- 
tain extent  you  are  right,  but  then  when  things  are  on  their 
prpsent  fooling —  {Stcp%  on  the  dia moulds  again.)     Oh! 


TRYING  IT  ON.  18 

Job.  What's  the  matter  ? 

Wal.  Only  the  rheumatism  ;  I  am  subject  to  it. 

Job.  But  these  ballooning  shares  ? 

Wal.  You're  never  going  to  buy  ballooning  shares 

Job.  Why  not?     When  I  tell  you  the  balloons  are 

Wal.  Hollow !  Nothing  in  them,  I  assure  you.  Were  I 
your  wife,  I  would  no  more  think  of  lending  you  my  diamond 
necklace 

Job.  What,  sir,  do  you  volunteer  advice  to  my  wife  ? 

Wal.  I  don't  advise  ;  on  the  contrary,  I  only  say  if  I  were 
your  wife — but  then,  I  am  not  your  wife  ;  there's  no  chance  of 
my  ever  being  your  wife. 

Job.  No  matter.     Come,  Maria,  will  you  let  me  havo  it  ? 

Mrs.  J.  ( Veri/  much  ar/itated.)  Yes — at  least  I'll  go  and  see 
if  I  can  lind  it. 

Job.  What  ? — do  you  mean  to  say  you  don't  know  where  it 
is? 

Mrs.  J.  Eh  ?    Yes — at  least,  it  can't  be  far  of. 

Wal.  {Aside)  No,  I  wish  to  heaven  it  were ! 

Job.  You've  lost  it,  a  necklace  of  that  value  ?  Impossible  ! 
It  must  be  in  your  room — go  instantly,  and  look  for  it !  Fanny, 
go  and  help  your  aunt.  (Mrs.  J.  and  Fanny  exeunt^  D.  r.  h.) 
Lost  it !     The  thing's  absurd.     Here,  Lucy!  {Follows  them.) 

Wal.  Thank  heaven,  alone  at  last !  And  now,  then,  where 
on  earth  to  find  a  boot-jack  ?  Eh  !  {Looks  in  Mrs.  J.'s  work-box 
on  table,  R.  h.,  throwing  all  the  thinc/s  out.)  No,  of  course  not ; 
the  idea  of  a  drawing-room  pretending  to  be  furnished  without 
a  bootjack  in  it ! 

Enter  Luct  hastily,  D.  k.  h. 

Lucy.  Good  gracious!  Missus  lost  her  necklace — it  was  here 
this  morning. 

Wal.  {Seeing  her.)  Kind  fate  be  thanked !  {Rushing  to 
her.)  Speak  woman,  instantly  and  truly,  as  if  your  life  depend- 
ed on  it — have  you  a  boot-jack  in  the  house? 

Lucy.  Lor,  sir,  you  frighten  me.  You  hav'nt  seen  a  dia- 
mond necklace,  have  you  ? 

Wal.  a  necklace  ?  No  !  But  have  you  got  a  boot-jack,  I 
repeat  ? 

Lucy.  Well,  sir,  but 

Wal.  {Seizing  her  arm.)  Your  bootjack  or  your  life. 

Lucy.  Sir,  what  are  you  about  ?     I'll  scream  ! 

Wal.  No — no.  Here,  look  !  here'shalf  a  sovereign  for  you, 
if  you'll  take  me  somewhere  where  I  can  pull  oft"  my  boot. 

Lucy.  What,  does  it  hurt  you  so? 

Wal.  Horribly. 

Lucy.  Go  into  master's  dressing-room.  {Shoios  him  to  room 
L.  u.,  and  exit  c.  d. — Potts  l.  ii.) 

Enter  Fanny,  d.  r.  u. 

Fan.  AVhatevcr  can  be  done !  If  uncle  only  once  snspected 
these  horrible  false  diamonds. 


14  TRYING  IT  OK 

Enter  Tittlebat,  c. 

— Oil,  Mr.  Tittlebat,  if  you  knew  how  delighted  I  am  that  you 
are  come • 

Tit.  Oh,  Miss  Fanny,  do  I  really  hear  you  say  so !  If  I 
could  tell  you  how  I  bless  the  happy  chance 

Fan.  Yes — yes.  But  I  want  you  to  run  to  uncle  George — 
don't  lose  a  minute  ;  tell  him  he  must  by  some  means  get  us 
back  the  necklace  that  you  left  with  the  jeweller  this  morning. 
Unless  it's  brought  back  immediately,  I  dare  not  answer  for  the 
consequences.  My  uncle  has  come  home,  and  asked  my  aunt 
for  it. 

Tit.  Well,  she  has  got  the  other  one  to  show  him. 

Fan.  Impossible  !  He  wants  to  take  it  out  to  borrow  money 
■upon  it. 

Tit.  The  devil !  Excuse  me,  Miss  Fanny,  for  giving  utter- 
ance to  that  expression  in  your  presence. 

Fan.  Yes — yes.  Run  instantly — pray  do ;  my  aunt  pretends 
that  she  has  lost  it,  and  my  uncle  is  half  mad  with  rage.  At 
any  cost,  that  necklace  must  be  got.  Quick  1  I  must  go  back, 
and  see  what  my  aunt  is  doing. 

Tit.  I  fly.  Miss  Fanny — but  if  you'll  let  me  tell  you  how  I 
bless  the  happy  chance — 

Fan.  Oh,  pray  make  haste.  [Exit  D.  E.  H. 

Tit.  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  but  somehow  I  never  can  get 
that  girl  to  let  me  tell  her  how  I  bless  the  happy  chance.  It's 
Mr.  Tittlebat  go  here — Mr.  Tittlebat  go  there — Mr.  Tittlebat  do 
this,  do  that ;  and  now  I've  got  to  go  and  see  about  this  neck- 
lace again.  Well,  at  any  rate,  this  time,  after  all  I've  done — . 
{Going  c.  sees  Potts,  who  enters  d.  l.  h.,  trying  in  vain  to  pull 
his  boot  on.^  Hollo!  here's  this  infernal  tuner  again. 

Wal.  Hah,  you  here  still?  Have  you  a  pair  of  boothooka 
in  your  pocket  ? 

Tit.  Pray,  sir,  is  this  your  dressing-room?  just  now  I  found 
you  with  your  coat  off;  and  now  you're  putting  on  your  boots. 

Wal.  {Angrily.)  Have  you  or  have  you  not  a  pair  of  boot- 
hooks  ? 

Tit.  No,  sir,  I  have  not. 

Wal.  {Takes  cane  from  him,  tries  to  pull  on  his  boot  and  it 
breaks.)  Oh,  dear,  what  on  earth  did  you  buy  such  a  stick  as 
that  for? 

Tit.  Hang  his  impudence.  [^Ezit. 

Wal.  Go  to  the  devil !  {TTirowing  stick  after  him.)  Take 
your  stick  with  you.  So  I've  got  the  diamonds.  But  how  the 
deuce  to  get  my  boot  on  ?  (waiting  about  and  pulling  at  his 
boots.)  What  on  earth  do  they  make  boots  in  this  absurd  way 
for  ?  There's  no  getting  them  off  when  they  are  on,  nor  on 
when  they  are  off,  yet  the  fellows  expect  to  be  paid  just  the 
same.  However,  I've  got  the  diamonds.  Oh  !  this  will  be  a 
fine  lesson  lo  me.  If  ever  I  touch  anything  not  belonging  to 
me  again,  as  long  as  I  live — {seeing  Jobstock's  hat.)  What  a 
comical  luit !  {Picts  it  on.)  Just  fits  me.  It's  very  strange, 
.'iurolv  there  must  beboothooks  somewhere  here  about.     (Goei 


TRYING  IT  OX.  15 

about  the  room  an  if  in  search  of  somciJiinq,  and  returns  to  l.  h. 
table.)  A  paper-knife,  a  pen ;  the  very  things.  (Tries  them, 
thei/  break.)  Bah  !  what's  the  use  of  things  like  that !  {throws 
them  away  with  disgust.)  The  poker,  yes  ;  that  will  do  nicely 
for  one  side.  Now  the  shovel ;  confound  the  thing,  too  big. 
The  tongs,  no.  (Walks  about  with  poker  hanr/inc/ to  boot.)  Now, 
upon  my  life,  this  is  a  pleasant  situation.  {Tries  one  or  two 
other  tilings,  they  break,  at  last  he  gets  the  leg  of  a  chair  in  the 
loop  and  pulls  at  that  and  the  poker.)  Hah!  it's  going;  yes, 
another  pull.  Hah,  it's  on.  {Throws  poker  on  table.)  Now 
for  it.  Here's  the  necklace,  here's  the  case.  {Puts  it  in.) 
And  Mr.  Jobstock  may  buy  his  ballooning  shares  as  soon  as 
ever  he  likes.  Oh,  Lord !  a  very  pleasant  morning's  work  I've 
had.     {Wipes  his  forehead.)     Well,  I'll  be  off. 

Enter  Jobstock  in  a  great  rage,  r.  h. 

Job.  I  won't  believe  a  word  of  it.  She'd  have  told  me  of  it 
at  once  if  her  story  had  been  true.  A  necklace  of  that  value. 
Oh!  young  man.  ySeeingWw.'sn'iGViAUwithhis  hat  on.)  Hey, 
do  you  wear  a  hat  like  mine? 

Wal.  Eh !  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,  a  mistake,  I  assure  you. 
{Taking  it  off  and  placing  it  on  table.) 

Job.  You'd  better  call  again ;  I  can't  attend  to  you  to-day, 
I'm  in  too  great  a  state  of  agitation.  Fancy  a  diamond  neck- 
lace worth  two  hundred  pounds.  I  ask  my  wife  for  it,  and  she 
tells  me  she  has  lost  it. 

Wal.  (l.^)  Such  things  you  know  will  happen  in  the  best 
of  regulated  families. 

Job.  (e.)  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it ;  and  that  young 
hussy  Fanny — 

Wal.  Sir! 

Job.  To  come  with  her  innocent  face  and  say  :  "  Don't  be 
angry,  uncle,  aunt  lent  it  to  me  last  night  to  go  to  the  opera, 
and  it  came  unfastened  somehow  or  ither,  and  must  have  fallen 
off  my  neck." 

Wal.  {Aside.)  Oh,  bless  her,  she  takes  the  blame  upon  her- 
self on  purpose  to  screen  me.  There's  affection,  there's  devo- 
tion !     But  stop,  how  did  she  know  I'd  got  the  necklace  ? 

Job.  Tell  me,  young  man,  what  would  you  say  to  such  a  tale  ? 

Wal.  Well,  as  I  know  it  to  be  strictly  true — ■ 

Job.  You  know  it? 

Wal.  Yes,  in  proof  of  which  behold  the  diamonds! 

Job.  Eh  ?  what — why,  how  the  devil  ?  Well,  but — you  found 
them — you.  My  dear  fellow !  {seizes  his  hand.)  Here,  Maria 
— Maria — ^here  it  is ! 

Enter  Mrs.  Jobstock,  r.  h. 

We've  found  it,  we've  found  the  necklace. 

Mrs.  J.  {Asiile.)     Good  heavens!  found! 

Job.  Yes ;  this  worthy  young  man  has  found  it  and  has 
brought  it  back  to  us.  But,  by-the-bye,  what  was  the  reason 
when  you  had  it  all  the  time  you  let  us  look  all  about  for  it  so 


IG  TRYING  IT  ON. 

long  ?  Sly  Jog ;  I  suppose  you  waited  for  a  reward  to  bo  offered 
for  it,  eh  V 

Wal.  a  reward — nothing  of  the  kind,  sir,  I  assure  you. 

Job.  Well,  you  shan't  lose  by  it,  I  promise.  I  won't  forgot 
your  honesty.  But  come,  Maria,  yon  don't  thank  him ;  Bay 
something  at  any  rate.     {Going.) 

Mrs.  J.  (Aside.)     Sir,  you  have  ruined  me. 

Wal.  Eh!  what's  that? 

Job.  I  won't  be  a  minute.  {Taking  his  hat.)  I'm  only  going 
into  the  next  street.  \^Ezit  c.  D. 

Mrs.  J.  Yes,  sir ;  I  say  you  have  ruined  me. 

Wal.  But  how,  madam,  how  have  I  ruined  you?  Explain 
a  little. 

Mrs.  J.  Could  you  not  see  that  I  did  not  wish  my  husband  to 
have  the  necklace  ? 

Wal.  No,  madam ;  how  on  earth  could  I  see  without  your 
showing  me  ? 

Mrs.  J.  Sir,  you  must  know — 

Wal.  Well,  let  me  know,  that's  all  I  want ;  as  long  as  I 
know,  I  don't  care. 

Mrs.  J.  Then,  sir,  those  diamonds  are  false. 

Wal.  False! 

Mrs.  J.  An  imitation  of  my  own,  which  I  have  had  made 
without  my  husband's  knowledge,  for  reasons  which  I  need  not 
explain.     When  he  discovers  it,  what  will  become  of  me  ? 

Wal.  Well,  that  I  can't  say,  I'm  sure.  I  can't  be  expected 
to  enter  into  those  matters.  Struck  with  a  sudden  thought.) 
Good  gracious ! 

Mrs.  J.  Well,  what  now  ? 

Wal.  Why,  madam,  as  you  say  when  he  discovers  these  dia- 
monds are  false,  for  of  course  he  will  discover  it,  what's  to  be- 
come of  7ns  ? 

Mrs.  J.  Of  you? 

Wal.  Exactly !  he  believes  I  found  your  diamonds  last  night 
at  the  opera ;  to-day  I  give  him  false  ones  in  their  place ;  that 
being  the  case,  he  will  of  course  suppose — {takes  his  hat.)  Ma- 
dam, you  will  allow  me  to  wish  you  a  very  good  morning. 

Mrs.  J.  But,  sir — {stopping  him.) 

Enter  Fanny,  r.  h. 

Fan.  Aunt,  it's  all  right ;  Mr.  Tittlebat  has  gone  to  uncle 
George's  to  get  back  your  diamonds. 

Mrs.  J.  Get  them  back,  indeed !  Oh  !  Fanny !  this  gentleman 
has  given  the  false  ones  to  my  husband. 

Fan.  He  has,  good  gracious !  What  will  uncle  say,  when  he 
discovei-s  it  ? 

Wal.  Ladies,  I'm  truly  grieved  to  tear  myself  away  ;  but  the 
fact  is — in  short — allow  me,  ladies,  to  wish  you  both  good 
morning. 

Fan.  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir.     {Stopping  him.) 

Wal.  To-morrow  !  I  will  have  the  honor  of  calhng  again. 

Fan.  To-morrow  !   no  sir,  get  us  out  of  this  dilemma  you  have 


TRYING  TI  ON".  n 

placed  us  in,  or  j  ou  need  not  take  the  trouble  to  return,  I  as- 
sure you. 

Job.  ( Outside.)  Bring  it  up  the  instant  it  arrives. 

Fan.  My  uncle's  voice. 

Enter  Jobstock,  c. 

Job.  I've  done  it. 

Wal.  (Aside)  He's  done  it. 

Job.  I've  sent  them  to  a  man  I  know  just  by  here.  In  five 
minutes  I  shall  have  the  money. 

Wal.  (^Aside.)  Five  minutes !  just  time  enough  to  get  the 
start  of  them,  before  the  thing's  found  out.  (Tries  to  get  away.) 

Job.  Holloa.     Here,  you  are  not  going  ? 

Wal.  Yes,  I  was ;  you  see  it's  getting  late. 

Job.  0  !  nonsense  ;  you  must  stop  and  dine  with  us  to-day. 

Wal.  No  !  you  must  excuse  me,  really. 

Job.  {Taking  his  hat  from  1dm.)  Pooh!  pooh!  I  insist. 

Mrs.  J.  Oh !  yes,  we  can't  allow  you,  sir,  to  run  away  from 
us  so  soon. 

Wal.  But  really,  I  assure  you,  I  am  engaged  to  dine  with 
a  most  particular  friend.  Some  other  day  I  shall  be  most  happy. 
(He  goes  to  take  his  hat,  Jobstock  gives  it  to  Faj^ijuy.)  I  assure 
you  it's  a  fact. 

Job.  Well !  you  shall  write  and  put  him  off.  Come,  come, 
sit  down,  and  tell  me  where  you  found  the  diamonds  ;  'twas  in 
the  opera,  I  think  you  said  ? 

Wal.  Yes,  in  the  opera,  there.  Now  really  I  must  go.  (Goes 
to  Fannt/o?-  his  hat.) 

Fan.  (Aside  to  him.)  Not  if  you  ever  wish  to  see  my  face 
again.  (Aloud.)  Yes,  uncle,  this  gentleman  was  sitting  very  near 
our  box,  and — 

Wal.  (looking  <tt  his  watch.)  Upon  my  word,  you  must  excuse 
me. 

Enter  LucT,  c,  with  a  letter. 

Lucy.  The  boy  has  brought  this  answer,  sir.  [Exit,  C. 

Job.  The  answer — now  then  for  it.  (Opeiis  it.) 

Wal.  Now  for  it,  indeed ! 

Fan.  Oh,  aunt! 

Mrs.  J.  What  can  we  do  ? 

Job.  What  do  I  seie  ? — no  money !  The  diamonds  false  ! 
What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ? 

Wal.  (Taking  his  hat,  aside.)  The  bolt  has  fallen  !  (Aloud,) 
Ladies,  Mr.  Jobstock,  allow  me  once  more  to  say —  (going.) 

Job.  (Stopping  him.)  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir! 

Wal.  But,  indeed,  I  have  a  most  particular  engagement — 
some  other  day,  I  tell  you! 

Job.  One  moment,  sir. 

Wal.  But  don't  I  tell  you  the  people  will  be  waiting  for  me. 

Jon.  I  fear  they  will  some  time,  sir,  unless  you  can  inform 
me  how  it  is  that  you  find  real  diamonds  over-night  and  bring 
homo  paste  instead  of  thein  next  morning. 

Mrs.  J.  One  word. 


18  TRYING  IT  OX. 

Job.  No,  let  liim  speak.     This  matter  seems  a  serious  one. 
Wal.  (Aside.)  He  takes  me  for  a  thief.     I  knew  he  would. 
Jon.  Well,  sir,  you  do  not  answer.     Fanny,  lock  the  door ! 
Mrs.  J.  But,  my  dear— 
Job.  Lock  the  door,  I  say !  (?'?t  a  rage.) 

^nter  Tittlebat  out  of  breath,  c. 

Fan.  (Aside  to  him.)  What  news ?     Speak! 

Tit.  I  can't. 

Mrs.  J.  (^Asidc  to  him.)  You've  got  them. 

Tit.  Yes.     (Gives  necklace.) 

Mrs.  J.  Thank  heaven! 

Job.  Who's  that  ? 

Tit.  (r.)  It's  only  I.  Tell  me,  you  hav'nt  bought  into  those 
Balloon  affairs,  eh,  have  you  ? 

Job.  (l.  c.)  Hang  the  Balloons.  I've  other  things  to  think 
about  just  now. 

Tit.  No,  but  I  hope  you  hav'nt,  for  as  I  came  along  I  heard 
the  news  that  the  whole  affair  had  gone  smash,  the  directors 
absconded,  and  the  shares  are  just  worth  their  weight  in  waste 
paper. 

Job.  The  devil!  But  come,  these  diamonds  ;  what  have  you 
to  say  ? 

Mrs.  J.  My  dear,  one  instant.  That  gentleman  is  not  to 
olame,  here  is  the  necklace. 

Wal.  (c.)  No,  this  gentleman  is  not  to  blame.  (Takes  neck- 
lace from  case,  gives  it  to  Job.)  Here  is  the  necklace. 

Job.  Why,  what  on  earth! —  (Taking  it.) 

Mrs.  J.  Listen,  I  did  not  dare  to  tell  you  this  morning,  but 
since  there  is  no  other  way — 

Wal.  (Interrupting  her.)  The  facts  of  the  case  are  simply 
these.  (Aside  to  Mrs.  J.)  Keep  quiet,  I'll  arrange  it.  (Aloud.) 
The  case  is  simply  this — there's  the  case.  (Giving  the  case  to 
Job.)  This  morning  you  had  fixed  your  mind  on  buying  these 
shares ;  you  thought  Balloons  would  rise  in  the  market,  I  knew 
they  would  burst.  Your  wife  very  properly  refused  you  her 
necklace,  not  wishing  you  to  make  an  ass  of  yourself — excuse 
the  word,  I  hate  flattery — but  I  knew  it  was  no  use  to  argue 
with  such  a  pigheaded  old  fellow  as  yourself — oh,  I  assure  you 
I  never  flatter.  So  I  substituted  those  false  diamonds  for  the 
real  ones  simply  to  gain  time  until  the  smash  should  come;  the 
smash  has  come,  you  hav'nt  bought,  and  now,  as  you  have  seen 
your  folly,  you  can  be  safely  trusted  with  the  diamonds. 

Job.  Is  it  possible  ?  Then  but  for  you  I  should  have  losJ 
two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds. 

Wal.  Of  course  you  would,  and  you'd  have  hanged  yourself 
from  sheer  vexation.  You  must  have  done  so,  couldn't  possi 
hly  have  helped  it ;  so  I  have  saved  your  life  and  your  money. 
In  return,  may  I  hope  at  some  future  time  to  aspire  to  youi 
niece's  hand. 

Tit.  You,  a  pianoforte  tuner? 

Wal.  Neither  a  tuner  nor  a  clerk  ;  but  Walsingham  Potts, 
twenty-six  years  of  ngc,  five  hundred  a  year — 


TRYING  IT  ON.  19 

Job.  Potts!  Potts !  I've  surely  heard  that  name  before. 

Wal.  I  knew  it.     In  India,  to  be  sure. 

Job.  No  ;  now  I  thinic  of  it,  'twas  in  the  City 

Wal.  Just  so,  in  Leadenhall  Street,  I  suppose.  India  is  only 
another  name  for  Leadenhall  Street.  So  I  accept  myself  for 
jour  niece's  future  husband. 

Job.  Well,  I  must  say  Fanny  doesn't  seem  at  all  displeased, 
and  since  you  are  evidently  so  well  versed  in  the  matters  of  the 
Stock  Exchange — 

Wal.  To  be  sure,  there's  no  knowing  what  things  I  might  put 
you  up  to. 

Tit.  But,  my  dear  friend,  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you — 

Job.  About  your  preferential  shares,  I  know.  We'll  talk  of 
them  to-morrow. 

Tit.  No,  but  Miss  Fannv,  really — 

Fan.  I  couldn't  help  it^  Jlr.  Tittlebat. 

Wal.  Of  course  she  couldn't,  none  of  them  can. 

Fan.  I  trust  you'll  still  remain  the  same  kind  friend.  {Holds 
out  her  hand  to  him.) 

Wal.  To  be  sure  he  will.  (He  takes  Tittlebat's  hand,  puts 
it  into  Fan.vt's  a7id  shakes  them.)  You  see  he  bears  no  malice. 
Not  a  bit  of  it. 

Tit.  Oh,  Miss  Fanny  ! 

Wal.  Well,  never  mind,  you  have  tried  it  on  and  failed;  you 
are  not  the  first  great  man  that  has  failed  in  the  world.  I  was 
trying  it  OMJust  now  {indicates  action  in  trying  on  the  necklace), 
and  a  very  nice  scrape  I  was  nearly  getting  into.  However,  - 
it's  all  right  now,  and  as  I  know  these  things  are  always  better 
brought  to  a  speedy  finish,  we  won't  even  ask  the  usual  ques- 
tions of  whether  our  nonsense  has  afibrded  pleasure,  but  test 
the  matter  by  "  Trying  It  On"  every  evening  till  further  notice. 


Disposition  of  Characters. 
Tittlebat.      Mrs.  Jobstock.      "Wal.     Fannt.      Me.  Jobstock. 


CURTAIN. 


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